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PS   172<>  te  lib    190? 
LINIVERSITV   OF   CALIFORNiA     SAN   D;tCO 


3   1822  01214  0828 


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>«•«•«•*«•«-••»«•«•< 


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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of 
CALIFORNIA 

.       SAN  DIEGO        I 


C-V.  ^  f 


3   1822  01214   0828  /^g" 


CELIA  E.  GARDNER'S 
NOVELS. 


NEW  EDITIONS  JUST  PUBLISHED. 


1.  STOLEN  WATERS—"  Stolen  Waters  are  Sweet "  $1.50 

2.  BROKEN  DREAMS— A  Novel  in  Verse         .        1.50 

3.  TESTED— A  Story  of  Woman's  Constancy      .  .50 

4.  RICH  MEDWAY'S  TWO  LOVES         .        .  .50 

5.  A  WOMAN'S  WILES 50 

6.  TERRACE  ROSES 50 

7.  COMPENSATION— A  Story  in  Verse      .        .        1.50 

8.  A  TWISTED  SKEIN— A  Story  in  Verse         .        1.50 

9.  HER  LAST   LOVER  50 

10.  WON  UNDER  PROTEST      .        .       .       .        1.50 


Sent  free  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

G.   W.   DILLINGHAM    CO.,   PUBLISHEBS, 

NEW  YORK. 


TESTED; 

OB, 

HOPE'S    FRUITION. 

A 

STORY  OF  WOMAN'S  CONSTANCY. 


BT 

CELIA   E.    GARDNER, 

A0THOB    or 

"aiQLm  WAXBBSt"  "bboksn  dheaus."  "Bicb  usDWAn  I'wo  Lorm" 


**rn»  M  the  tested  gaU.« 


NEW    YORK: 
G»     W,    DiUingham     Co.,    Publishers^ 


Entered  accordlni^  to  Act  of  Coofrress,  In  the  Tear  1874,  bjr 

G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO^ 

la  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  Year  igoa,  by 

CELIA   E.  GARDNER, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C 


Tesied, 


tapt.    JOHN    M.    ADAIH, 

m  BBmoiaaAiKc  *r 
fti«AlAHT    "WMI    SMA'    HODBa"    0»    THB    Pi 
AVB    in   T«KEV    •* 

True  and  "Tested "  Friendship  of  the 


W0XK    IS    INSCRIBED, 

WITH    HAHr   KIMBLT 

JmoVOHTS,      yriSHBS,      flxCOLLKCTIOMS 


CONTENTS. 


I.— Exhibitioa  Day. ti 

IL — Home  and  Friends 23 

HL — An  Evening  in  Boston 85 

IV. — Returning  Home — The  Stranger 51 

v.— A  Little  Difference— llie  Twilight  Walk 64 

VI.— The  Excursion 83 

VII.— The  Language  of  Flowers , 106 

Vm. — A  Significant  Demonstration 124 

TX. — Happiness — Disappointment. 141 

X. — Indignation — Coquetry 150 

XI.— The  Return— Sad  Hours 157 

XII.— The  Unexpected  Gift— The  Party i70 

XIII.— A  Cruel  Disappointment—"  I  love  yoa  " 182 

XIV.— A  Parting  Gift— Farewell 198 

XV. — Berrie's  Journal— Hope  deferred. 207 

XVI.—"  The  Desire  cometh  " 819 

XVn.— Contrasts— A  Betrothal 234 

XVIII.— A  "  Schoolma'am  "— Letters  and  Bepllea 241 

XIX.— A  Declaration. 851 

XX.-  -Letters— An  Arrival 259 

XXI.  -  Some  Nonsense — Ezcursiona  ad  libitum 269 

XXI L — An  Unexpected  Meeting — Another  Betrothal 281 

XXIII.— Doubt— DiBappoin'.,ment— A  Wedding 293 

XXIV. — Changes — Bereavement — A  New  Home 803 

XXV.— Old  «xd  New  Friends 813 

XXVI.  -A  Day  Out— Reminiscences 328 

XXVII.-  A  Siipificant  Painting  — Restored  Confideae*.       ...  885 


I  ooNTEnrra. 

Xivni. — A  New  Aoquamtamo* — An  Invitation 844 

yrnc  —Sleighing-  -A  Rejected  Offer— Co ntrasti  and  Com- 
forts   854 

IXX.— Eetumed  from  Abroad— Mutoal  Donbta 864 

TTXT — ^Another  Proposal— Aroidance. 383 

XXXII. — At  Cross-purposes — Despondence 893 

XXXin.— Christmaa— Betrottial 401 

XXXIV.— The  Night  before  the  Wedding— Married  and  Off. . .  416 

TTTV  — •gomo  Ayaia— "  Hepe'i  FmitJoa" IM 


TESTED;   OR,  HOPE'S  FrDITIOS 


CHAPTER  L 


EXHIBITION    DAT. 

**  And  out  from  the  gardens  merrily  troop 
The  maidens  so  loving  and  fair, 
And  on  to  the  trysting-place  they  go, 
And  I  must  be  with  them  there." 

JoSEPHDfB  POIiZiAJUk 

•HE  tappy  sunlight  of  a  morning  early  in  July 
threw  itself  boldly  into  the  embrace  of  a  cluster 
of  maples,  in  the  tasteful  grounds  of  a  ladies' 
seminary  in  fair  New  England,  and  peeping  through 
the  veil  of  trembling  leaves  with  which  the  stately  treei 
were  decked,  coquetted  gaily  with  the  shadows  beneath, 
and  in  wanton  mirthfulness  gazed  i'^to  the  laughing 
eyes  of  the  lovely  cluster  of  girls  grouped  in  every 
variety  of  picturesque  attitude  upon  the  green  sward 
below,  kiseed  the  rosy  lips  and  cheeks  of  one  and  tOh 


10  EXHIBITION  DAT. 

other,  A>AiI  evc-rtiied  the  fa'r  young  heads  wi:h  Jiademi 
brilliant  as  molten  gold. 

A  soft  breeze  woke  the  sighing  leaves  to  musit,  and 
lifted  the  flowing  tresses  oi  the  happy  party  of  girls, 
while  now  and  then  a  rippling  laugh,  ringing  clearly 
upon  the  still  morning  air,  rivalled  in  its  sweetness  the 
triumphant  songs  of  bright-winged  birds,  swinging 
gaily  from  their  cradles  above,  and  thrilling  all  the 
balmy  air  with  witching  melody. 

Beyond  the  extended  view  of  lawn  and  garden 
loomed  the  "  argus-eyed  "  building  which  had  been  the 
dwelling-place  of  several  of  them  for  many  years,  iti 
white  walls  glisteuiiig  in  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun, 
while  the  thick  dark  leaves  of  the  ivy  that  festooned 
many  of  the  open  casements,  glittered  as  if  crested 
with  all  manner  of  precious  stones,  as  the  gathered 
drops  of  dew  caught  the  reflected  glory  of  the  gorgeous 
old  monarch  of  day,  riding  serenely  above  in  his 
chariot  of  concentrated  fire. 

The  central  figure  of  the  group  seated  beneath  the 
whispering  maples,  was  a  tall  brunette,  robed  like  her 
comjianions,  in  the  ordinary  school-dress  of  neat  print, 
with  small  white  collar,  and  coquettish  apron  of  the 
game  snowy  hue,  in  which  was  gathered  a  quantity  of 
beautiful  flowers  still  glistening  with  the  dews  oi 
morning,  and  which  threatened  to  leave  her  dainty 
apron  in  anything  but  a  spotless  condition. 

Flowers  of  every  hue  and  variety,  whose  mingled 
fragrance  rendered  the  air  they  were  breathing  heavy 
with  perfume,  reposed  in  delightful  confusion  in  her 
hafitily  improvised  basket,  but  her  slender  fingers  wepf 


BXniBTTlON  DAT.  11 

rapidly  assorting  and  distributing  theiu  Vj  her  compaik 
ions,  the  while  her  merry  tongue  kept  time  with  hei 
active  hands. 

Queenly  in  figure,  haughty  in  feature,  and  dominant 
in  character,  she  was  a  leading  spirit  in  all  the  mischief 
that  had  been  planned  and  executed  during  the  p&it 
months  and  years  of  busy  school  routine ;  but,  like  a 
number  of  her  fellow  pupils,  she  would,  ere  the  day 
should  close,  receive  her  certificate  of  graduation,  and 
bidding  farewell  forever  to  the  merry  days  of  school 
girl  life,  anxiously  await  what  the  future  might  have 
in  store. 

She  was  seated  on  a  large,  moss-covered  boulder, 
looking  in  her  proud  uprightness  of  figure  every  inch 
a  queen,  while  her  companions  were  disposed  around 
her  as  fancy  or  indolence  might  suggest,  awaiting  pa- 
tiently her  distribution  of  the  floral  treasures  with 
which  her  lap  was  filled.  Some  were  leaning  carelessly 
against  the  massive  tree-trunks  around,  one  or  two  were 
half  reclining  on  the  gi-ound,  regardless  of  the  light 
dew  that  still  gemmed  the  verdant  sward,  their  elbows 
buried  in  the  long,  rank  grass,  and  their  dimpled  chins 
resting  on  their  soft  pink  palms,  while  one  sweet  girl, 
the  youngest  and  fairest  of  the  group,  leaned  over  the 
Queen  Flora  of  the  occasion,  pulling  the  long  tresses 
that  floated  over  her  shoulders,  pinching  the  cheeks 
already  pink  with  the  rosy  flushes  of  health,,  or  snatch- 
ing from  her  apron  handfuls  of  the  beautiful  flowers  it 
held,  and  shaking  the  dew  drops  that  lingered  in  their 
cups  all  over  the  ha'ighty  but  now  smiling  face,  while 
Helen  alternately  laughed  and  scolded,  as  her  little  £»• 


in  KXEIBITloN  DAT. 

Torite  each  moment  devised  some  new  method  of 
ing. 

Fair  and  fragile  as  the  flower  whose  name  she  bore, 
•weet  Lillie  Danforth  was  still  full  of  life  and  merri- 
ment, and  a  general  favorite  in  the  school ;  while  the 
proud  Helen  Harrington,  although  in  all  respects  so 
totally  unlike  her,  was  her  bosom  f  riojid  and  confidant. 

"  Helen,  my  Queen,"  she  murmurs,  in  the  midst  of  a 
shower  of  kisses  which  totally  interrupts  the  sentence 
on  her  companion's  lips,  "  violets  and  rose-buds  for  me, 
yon  know ;  '  sweet  violets  heavy  with  dew.'  " 

"  Keep  still,  you  saucy  girl,  or  you  shall  have  noth- 
ing but  a  daisy  and  dandelion.  Maud,  can't  you  keep 
this  child  quiet  for  five  minutes,  while  I  finish  assort- 
ing these  flowers?  She  torments  me  half  to  death  1 "  said 
Helen,  addressing  one  of  the  monitors  of  the  school. 

Maud  shrugged  her  shoulders  expressively,  but  made 
no  reply,  while  the  "  child  "  in  question  twined  her 
arms  around  the  neck  of  the  scolding  girl,  and  leaning 
a  pink  and  white  cheek  against  the  darker  one  at  her 
side,  said  caressingly,  "  Now,  Helen,  dov^t  be  cross  with 
me,  and  I'll  be  the  goodest  little  girl  as  ne\er  was; 
and  you  shall  have  poppies  and  marigolds  for  your 
)wii  dusky  tresses,  but  violets  and  rosebuds  for  me,  you 
know,  my  Queen  1  "  and  a  hug  which  half  strangled 
the  girl  completed  the  sentence. 

^  There,  there  1  do  take  your  violets  and  rosebndi, 
and  give  me  a  minute's  peace !  "  exclaimed  Helen,  half 
petulantly  and  half  laughingly,  as  she  began  hastily 
palling  out,  and  tossing  on  the  ground,  rick  elustera  of 
Ike  flowers  in  question. 


EZmBITlON  DAT.  18 

"There*  Lillie,"  she  added,  "that  frii.  give  joi 
somethini^  to  do,  to  pick  them  up ;  and  yoa  know  Satan 
always  provides  mischief  for  idle  hands.  That's  what 
the  trouble  is  with  you,  I  fancy.  Here,  Maud,  are  pan- 
ties for  you,  heliotrope  for  xlnnie,  and  roses  for  you,  my 
*  queen  rose  of  the  rose-bud  garden  of  girls.'  Fannie, 
what  will  you  have,  pinks  or  poppies  ?  By-the-way, 
where  ia  Berrie  Burton  this  morning,  and  what  shaU  1 
keep  for  her  ? " 

"  Oh,  Berrie  is  poring  over  her  lessons,  as  usual,*" 
returned  Maud.  "  The  poor  child  learns  with  such 
difficulty,  and  she  is  so  afraid  she  will  not  pass  the  ex- 
amination creditably  to-day,  and  receive  her  diploma. 
It  would  be  too  bad  if  she  should  fail,  she  has  tried  so 
hard  to  keep  up  with  her  class." 

"  Oh  I  what  does  it  matter  if  she  doesn't  graduate 
with  special  hcnor?  She  is  highly  accomplished  in 
music,  and  with  her  pretty  face,  and  her  father's  money, 
her  future  is  certain  to  be  a  happy  one,  whether  she 
knows  that  two  and  two  make  four,  or  not.  Oh,  dear  1 
I  wish  I  had  been  born  rich  instead  of  handsome  I " 
with  an  impatient  shrug  of  her  sloping  shoulders.  "  A 
ichoolma'am's  destiny  is  not  delightful  in  prospective, 
whatever  the  reality  may  prove." 

"  Beauty  and  wealth  do  not  always  bring  happiness, 
Helen,  they  say;  and  your  destiny,  after  4II,  may 
prove  even  more  enviable  than  Berrie's.  Some  gal 
lant  knight  will  come  along  ani  rescue  you  from  tLa 
school-room  before  long,  perhaps,"  laughingly.  "  Seri 
me  an  invitation  to  the  wedding,  will  you  ? " 

"Yes,  you  shall  be  chief   bridesmaid,  Miss  Maud. 


14  EZEIBITION  DAT. 

and  the  sooner  he  makes  his  appearance  ihe  better 
If  you  come  across  any  one  with  plenty  of  cioney>  who 
is  desirous  of  throwing  himself  away,  just  send  him 
over  to  me.  But  I  do  envy  Berrie  sometimes,  her 
future  seems  so  very  bright.  But  what  would  she  like 
for  flowers,  do  you  think?  how  will  this  scarlet  gera- 
nium do  ? " 

"Admirably!  it  will  just  suit  her.  But  hark  I  theie 
is  the  eight  o'clock  bell,  Helen  Harrington  ;  we  shall 
be  dreadfully  late;"  and  gathering  up  her  dress  to 
protect  it  from  the  still  damp  grass  of  the  lawn,  the 
Bpoaker  ran  swiftly  toward  the  house,  followed  speedily 
by  her  companions. 

Let  us  enter  the  large  exhibition  hall  of  the  semi- 
nary some  hours  later,  and  take  a  quiet  view  of  its  in 
mates  and  the  proceedings  then  in  operation.  The 
visitors'  seats  are  filled  to  overflowing,  and  although  ?» 
large  number  of  extra  chairs  have  been  brought  in,  to 
accommodate  the  influx  of  lookers-on,  many  are  yet 
standing,  and  those  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  ob- 
tain sittinsrs  are  crowded  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  com- 

fort ;  for  these  annual  exhibitions  of  W- Seminary 

have  been  for  many  years  deservedly  popular. 

The  dewy  loveliness  of  the  morning  has  developed 
into  a  sulky,  sunburned  day,  and  windows  are  thrown 
to  their  widest  extent  to  catch  the  faintest  breath  of 
iiir  that  may  be  stirring,  while  innumerable  fans  keep 
in  a  continual  tremulous  flutter  the  floating  laces  and 
ribbons  that  adorn  their  fair  owners.  The  air  is  ex- 
oeedingly  oppressive,  and  heavy  with  the  fragrance 
that  floats  from  the  drooping  flowei-s  which  not  onlj 


EXSIBITION  DAT.  ll 

deck  the  fair  members  of  the  school,  Int  are  placed  ia 
every  available  spot  in  the  spacious  apartment ;  whiifl 
mauj  of  the  broad  window-seats  are  covered  with  pota 
of  scented  plants  or  trailing  vines,  which,  climbing  to 
the  very  apex  of  the  lofty  casement,  lean  down  to 
caress  their  lowlier  neighbors,  or  bask  in  the  ardent 
rays  of  the  sun,  as  it  peeps  through  the  open  window, 
and  drops  its  golden  gleams  athwart  the  blush  and 
bloom  below. 

The  pupils  of  the  school  are  ranged  on  elevated 
seats,  erected  for  the  occasion  on  either  side  the  plat- 
form, the  youngest  on  the  uppermost,  while  on  the 
lowest  yet  most  conspicuous  seats  in  the  room  are 
placed  the  graduating  class,  ten  in  number,  awaiting 
with  eagerly  beating  hearts,  flushed  cheeks,  and  spark- 
ling eyes,  the  awarding  of  the  prizes  for  the  year,  and 
the  hardly  won  diplomas,  which  should  sever  forever 
their  connection  with  the  witching  days  of  school-life. 
For  who  does  not  know  that  even  the  discipline  and 
routine  of  school  has  a  subtle  charm  all  its  own,  and 
the  memory  of  which  no  after  triumphs  can  render 
ftiight  but  pleasant  and  delightful  I 

Who  looks  not  back  to  the  days  spent  in  the  pursuit 
oi  knowledge  with  a  tremulous  smile  of  pleasure  at 
the  recollection,  a  sigh  of  regret  for  the  bursting  of 
the  airy  bubbles  of  fancy  which  had  then  seemed  as 
Bubstantial  as  beautiful,  or  a  tear  for  the  friends  then 
BO  intimate  and  dear,  of  whom  "  Some  are  married  and 
some  are  dead  ? "  Who  does  not  remember,  with  a 
touch  of  the  old  amusemcHt,  some  daring  breach  of 
discipline  O}  mad  prank  in  the  hueh  of  night,  when 


Id  EXHIBITION  DAT. 

they  were  supposed  to  be  sleeping  the  sweet  sleep  ol 
youth  and  innocence ;  or,  with  a  thrill  of  the  olden 
pleasure,  those  golden  days  when,  with  trembling 
hearts  an^  cheeks  a-flush  with  triumph,  they  proudly 
stepped  to  the  master's  desk  to  receive  the  preciouf 
prize  which  amply  rewarded  them  for  their  previouf 
hours  of  toil  and  application. 

At  the  head  of  the  graduating  class  of  to-day  alto 
our  queenly  acquaintance  of  the  morning.  Miss  Helen 
Harrington ;  her  dark  hair  bound  in  heavy  coils 
around  her  shapely  head,  her  haughty  mouth  dimpling 
with  smiles  of  gratification  and  pleasure,  and  her  regal 
form  robed  in  simple  white,  unornamented,  save  by 
the  broad  sash  of  pink  and  the  lovely  carnations  of  the 
same  hue  that  loop  her  dress  and  nestle  among  the 
bands  of  her  lustrous  purple-black  tresses.  Jewels  of 
the  purest  water  and  most  magnificent  settings  would 
become  her  royally ;  nor  does  the  simplicity  of  her 
present  attire  proceed  from  an  aversion  to  the  orna- 
ments that  most  young  girls  admire  and  covet.  She  is 
no  exception  to  her  companions  in  this  respect,  but, 
unfortunately,  as  she  has  intimated  in  the  conversation 
of  the  morning,  her  means  are  limited,  and  forbid  the 
accessories  to  beauty  which  her  taste  would  suggest 
and  crave.  Nothing  would  satisfy  her  ambition  save 
the  rarest  and  purest  gems,  and  as  these  are  absolutely 
unattainable,  she  will  wear  no  ornaments  save  the 
beautiful  blossoms  which  Nature,  with  such  lavish 
hand,  showers  aiound  her. 

She  is  the  only  child  of  a  widowed  mother,  who  wai 
left  to  a  life  of  loneliness  in  the  flush  v>f  youth  and 


EXBISmON  DAT.  17 

happineBS,  and  who  has  been  enabled  only  by  much 
exertion  to  give  her  daughter  the  necessary  edatation 
to  fit  her  for  teaching,  that  she  may  lighten  somewnat 
the  burden  of  poverty  which  has  been  theirs  for  bo 
many  years.  As  may  be  supposed,  the  proud  girl 
looked  forward  with  anything  but  pleasure  to  the  day 
when  she  must  assume  the  duties  of  school- mistress, 
although  at  the  same  time  she  felt  impatient  to  be  able 
in  some  degree  to  assist  one  who  had  made  so  many 
gacrifices  for  her,  and  spared  no  love  or  labor  that 
could  conduce  to  her  future  welfare  and  happiness. 

Maud  Lester,  the  second  in  rank  in  the  graduating 
class,  is  a  brown-haired,  brown-eyed,  graceful  girl, 
■with  no  claims  to  the  beauty  which  is  the  except  k)n 
rather  than  the  rule,  but  with  a  face  pleasing  for  itt 
intelligence  and  usual  expression  of  grave  yet  captivat- 
ing sweetness.  Her  parents  are  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances, and  she  has  never  known  a  real  want  ungrati- 
fied  ;  yet  her  tastes  are  simple,  and  her  ambitions 
legitimate  and  innocent.  She  is  a  sweet  girl,  mild  in 
temper,  quiet  in  manner,  and  with  great  depth  of  char 
acter,  and  truth  and  firmness  of  principle.  She,  also, 
is  simply  dressed,  in  some  thin  material  of  a  pale-lav- 
ender hue,  with  the  pansies  Helen  had  selected  for  her 
in  the  morning  drooping  from  her  hair  and  the  bosom 
of  her  delicate,  close-fitting  dress. 

I^ittle  Li  Hie  Danforth  is  not  in  the  group,  as  she  ii 
to  remain  still  another  year  as  pupil  in  the  schoo.  her 
companions  are  leaving  to-day. 

The  remainder  of  the  graduating  class  are  all  cshil 
dren  oi'  wenlthy  parents,  but,  with  one  exception,  h»v 


Xi  EXKmTTTON  DAT. 

'mg  no  part  to  play  in  tlic  foi-flicoming  :jarrative,  Deed 
no  particular  mention  here.  They  ae  fashionably 
dressed  and  resplendent  with  jewelry — brooches,  ear- 
drops, lockets,  chains,  bracelets,  and  rings  flash  in 
the  afternoon  sunlight,  as  now  and  then  a  stray  beam 
Rhoots  athwart  their  forms. 

The  exception  before  mentioned  is  my  heroine, 
Miss  Berrie  Burton,  casually  referred  to  by  her  fellow- 
pupils  in  the  morning,  but  not  as  yet  introduced  to  the 
special  notice  of  the  reader. 

I  can  close  my  eyes  now  and  see  before  me  the  face 
and  form  of  one  seen  but  rarsly,  yet  never  forgotten — 
for  the  picture  I  shall  paint  is  no  vision  of  the  imag- 
mation,  however  fictitious  niay  be  the  scenes  and  inci- 
dents related  in  connection  therewith,  but  the  imper- 
fect sketch  of  one  I  scarcely  knew,  and  whose  face 
first  met  my  eye  in  a  scene  similar  to  the  one  I  have 
been  attempting  to  describe. 

A  form  somewhat  below  the  medium  height,  yet 
beautifully  moulded  and  rounded  ;  hands  and  feet  of 
diminutive  proportions ;  a  small,  grave  face,  nearly 
oval  in  contour,  and  of  a  clear,  untinted  olive  in  color- 
ing ;  a  small,  sweet  mouth,  with  slightly  pouting  lips 
of  a  vivid  crimson,  which  every  one  who  knew  her  had 
an  irresistible  desire  to  kif,s;  and  eyes  of  a  lustrooa 
black,  large,  full,  and  expressive,  shaded  by  lashes  of 
the  same  sable  hue.  Too  large  for  beauty,  some  main- 
tained they  were,  yet  capable  of  a  softness  and  sweet 
ness  of  expression  very  attractive  at  least,  and  U  some 
dec'dedly  captivating.  But  her  crowning  beauty  wai 
her  wealth  of  soft  dark  hair,  which  swept  her  dusky 


EXHIBITION  DAT.  If 

•honlders  in  countless  numbers  of  ringlets,  bright,  and 
§mooth,  and  flossy  as  rolls  of  unwoven  silk.  No  de- 
scription can  do  justice  to  its  marvellous  beauty,  and 
no  other  bead  1  have  ever  seen  has  been  so  royally, 
peerlessly  crowned. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  light  plaid  silk  of  neutral  tinti, 
with  low  bodice  and  short,  lace-edged  sleeves,  and 
whose  severe  simplicity  was  unmarred  by  ornament  of 
any  style  or  description.  Not  a  jewel  glittered  on  hei 
taper,  pink-tipped  fingers,  on  her  smooth  round  arms, 
or  fair  uncovered  neck  ;  not  a  flower  blushed  in  her 
floating  hair,  or  on  her  pulsing  bosom  ;  not  a  ribbon 
fluttered  from  any  portion  of  her  attire ;  but  she  sat 
there,  that  golden  afternoon,  among  her  gaily  decked 
companions,  ornamented  alone  by  the  peerless  jewel  oi 
her  own  rare  loveliness. 

As  has  been  intimated,  she  was  no  scholar,  although 
not  wanting  in  application  and  a  desire  to  excel,  and  it 
was  only  by  continued  and  extra  effort  that  she  had  been 
able  to  keep  pace  with  her  companions,  except  in  music, 
of  which  she  was  passionately  fond,  and  which  was  ai 
easy  for  her  as  were  her  simplest  tasks  to  her  compeers. 
She  had  a  clear,  sweet  voice,  of  no  marvellous  power 
or  compass,  but  which  she  used  so  naturally  and  unaf- 
fectedly one  could  not  choose  but  be  charmed.  The 
piano  was  to  her  a  dear  companion,  and  few  young 
ladies  of  her  age  and  instruction  presided  at  it  with  so 
much  of  grace  and  skill. 

But  the  exhibition  is  swiftly  approaching  the  close. 
Lessons  have  been  recited,  declamations  have  been  ap^ 
predatively  listened  to,  essays  have  been  read,  song» 


M  EXHIBITION  LAY. 

have  been  sung,  and  now  but  a  few  more  exeroiiei 
intervene  before  the  distribution  of  prizes  and  award- 
ing of  diplomas  to  tho  graduating  class  of  to-day. 

"  Carryejo  Home  the  Sheaves. — Mis8  Mavd  Lm- 
ier^^  announces  the  master,  and  the  young  lady  comei 
forward,  and  with  exquisite  intonation,  and  voice  mod- 
olated  to  the  plaintive  sweetness  of  the  words,  reads, 
amid  the  breathless  hush  of  the  audience,  the  beaati* 
f  ul  little  poem : 

' '  List  I  oh,  list  to  the  reapers  this  quiet  summer  ev«, 
CJathering  in  the  harvest,  binding  up  the  sheaves. 
Liat  to  the  rush  of  the  sickle,  cutting  the  goldea  cfimiB ; 
Sinewy  hands  and  hardy  wield  them  not  in  vain. 
Deep  in  the  valley  the  sunset  glows  on  the  glistening  leaTMi, 
■Jhines  on  the  dark-browed  maidens  carrying  home  the  sheaves. 

^'  Kissed  by  the  breeze  and  the  sunshine,  loved  by  the  flowen  an4 
birds, 
Heart  in  whose  wild  recesses  beautiful  dreams  are  stirred, 
Stands  the  fairest  of  reapers,  red  lips  slightly  apart, 
While  gushes  of  plaintive  music  flow  from  her  o'ercharged  heart. 
Sings  she,  '  Oh,  Hfe  is  dreary  here  on  these  summer  eves,  j 
I  grow  so  weary,  weary,  carrying  home  the  sheavea 

**  '  For  the  whirling  rush  of  the  sickles,  quivering  throngh  m$ 
brain, 
•tirs  up  a  world  of  fancies,  never  to  sleep  again . 
I  dream  of  courts  and  castles,  gateways  of  gold  and  pearls, 
Laurel  wreaths  proudly  resting  on  the  brow  of  the  peasant  girl. 
Life  ifl  so  very  dreary  here  on  these  summer  eves, 
I  grow  BO  weary,  weary,  carrying  home  the  Hheavea  t 

I' ^  Thoughts  that  are   bright,    yet  painful,  straggle  witUn  m$ 
breast; 
life  ia  both  sweet  and  bancfn?  -I  am  not  like  the 


EXHTBITlOir  TAT.  %\ 


Wtrald  1  oould  word  my  longings,  Bimder  this  weary  i 
Ply  from  this  quiet  valley,  thesb  theavea  of  golden  grain  t 
Life  is  so  very  dreary  here  on  these  summer  eves, 
I  grow  BO  weary,  weary,  carrying  home  the  sheaves.* 

*'  Maiden,  thou  art  not  lonely ;  many  like  thee  there  are, 
Stifling  their  aspirations,  still  with  their  souls  at  war. 
All  through  this  life's  great  harvest  wander  a  sorrowing  trala, 
Knowing  full  well  their  mission,  but  wearing  a  closing  ohaia. 
Many  the  hearts  that  are  saying,  this  quiet  summer  eve, 
'  Oh,  I  am  weary,  weary,  carrying  home  the  sheaves  I ' 

*'  Maiden,  we  all  are  reapers,  workers  in  this  great  strife ; 
Let  us  not  then  be  sleepers,  but  on  to  the  spirits'  life. 
Ood  hears  our  cry,  my  sister.  He  will  gather  the  ripened  grain 
Up  in  His  broad  heaven-gamer,  where  life  will  be  free  from  pais 
Wait,  with  no  thought  of  sadness,  till  on  some  heavenly  eve, 
Oome  we  with  songs  of  gladness,  carrying  home  the  sheavea." 

The  rapt  hush  of  the  audience  f«r  some  mo 
ments  after  the  last  word  had  thrilled  with  its  plaintive 
music  the  balmy  summer  air,  testified  even  more 
tiioroughly  to  their  appreciation  of  the  poem  and  iti 
exquisite  rendering,  than  did  the  perfect  storm  of  ap- 
plause that  succeeded.  A  few  strains  of  mutiic  hushed 
the  tumult  at  last,  and  after  an  elaborate  prelude,  Miss 
Berrie  Burton,  with  unaffected  grace  and  witching 
•weetness  of  expression,  sang  the  then  popular  and 
beautiful  air,  "AVlien  the  swallows  homeward  fly." 
Then  followsd  the  valedictory  by  Miss  Helen  Harring^ 
ton,  which  by  its  forceful  eloquence  and  touching  allu- 
•ions  to  the  hour  of  parting  won  the  admiration  of  all, 
and  drew  a  tear  from  many  a  sparkling  eye. 

When  the  applause  which  succeeded  had  at  length 
di^  out,  the  master  arose,  and  in  a  few  well-choMoi 


%%  BXniBTTION  DAY. 

words,  and  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  expreoood 
his  gratification  at  tlic  credit  they  had  done  him  dnring 
the  hours  of  exhibition,  and  his  regret  at  parting  with 
■o  many  of  his  pupils,  to  wh:m,  in  the  past  years  of  in- 
timate association,  he  had  become  so  greatly  attached. 
Then  announces  his  pleasure  in  presenting  to  the  suo* 
cessfnl  competitors  the  prizes  before  him,  of  which 
Miss  Helen  Harrin2:ton  heads  the  list  and  receives  the 
firs^  awards  for  English  essay  and  general  scholarship, 
MisB  Maud  Lester  deservedly  receives  the  Elocutionary 
prize,  and  Miss  Berrie  Burton,  to  her  intense  surprise 
— for  in  her  modesty  she  has  never  dreamed  of  being 
80  honored — is  called  forward  to  be  presented  with  an 
elegantly  bound  musical  album,  for  her  manifest 
luperiority  in  vocal  and  instrumental  music.  Then 
each  of  the  young  ladies  of  the  graduating  class  receives 
her  diploma,  a  prayer  closes  the  exercises,  and  the 
pnpils  mingle  with  the  visitors  to  receive  the  congi^tu- 
lations  of  friends  on  the  success  of  the  affcemoon't  «Bp 
tMtainment. 


CHAPTER  IL 


HOME   AND    FRIENDS. 


"  This  ifl  her  h 
And  them  the  friends  whose  love  doth  make 
Bta  days  all  srmshuie  !     In  whose  hearts 
Her  face  is  sweetly  mirrored  ; — in  whose  thooghts 
Her  name  in  softest  music  rings 
Till  backward  floats  the  echo  sweet 
To  her  own  guileless  heart." 

0.  &e. 

rOFTLy  fell  the  veil  of  night  over  the  beautifn 
town  of  Bristol,  E,.  I.,  wrapping  in  its  misty 
loveliness  the  heaving  waters  of  the  bay,  the 
lux'irions  foliage  of  the  countless  numbers  of  noble 
old  trees,  whose  branches  often  interlaced  above  the 
broad  and  regular  streets  of  the  handsome  old  town, 
the  fine  residences  of  the  aristocratic  portion  of  its 
denizens,  and  the  tasteful  gardens  around  them,  whose 
blushing  beauties  seemed  to  exhale  a  richer  fragrance 
as  the  dews  of  evening  moistened  their  velvet  lips,  and 
the  darkness  bid  from  sight  their  loveliness  of  form 
»ud  ^/olor. 
In  the  parlor  of  a  handsome  house  on  one  of  the  fin- 


14  BOMB  ANP  friends: 

Mt  streets,  was  gathered  a  group  of  persons  whvMe  ftMr- 
tunes  are  somewhat  intimately  interwoven  with  the  loi 
of  those  to  whom  the  reader  has  a}ready  been  mtrc^ 
duced  in  the  few  preceding  pages. 

A  lady  somewhat  past  the  middle  age  of  lifCj  WM 
seated  in  an  easy  chair  near  one  of  the  open  windowi ; 
her  busy  fingers  occupied  with  some  fancy  knitting 
which  seemed  to  employ  her  thoughts  as  well  as  her 
hands,  as  she  kept  her  still  handsome  dark  eyes  fixed 
intently  upon  her  work.  A  round  matronly  figure  it 
was,  swaying  back  and  forth  in  the  easy  rocker,  the 
brow  placid  and  smooth,  and  the  lips  wearing  a  pleas- 
ant, but  apparently  pre-occupied  smile.  In  truth  her 
thoughts  were  far  away  from  the  present  scene,  with 
motherly  pride  and  affection  dwelling  on  her  absent 
loved  ones ;  her  eldest  bom  and  only  son,  who  ha^  ^ef 
the  paternal  roof  in  search  of  fortune  an^  f<via^  as  a 
lawyer  in  the  distant  Tri-raountain  city,  and  her  absent 
daughter,  who  would  that  day  have  completed  her  edu- 
cation, and  whom  she  might  hope,  ere  the  shades  of 
another  purple  twilight  hushed  to  sleep  the  hurry  and 
tumult  of  busy  day,  to  hold  in  her  arms  once  more 
with  a  mother's  fondness  of  welcome  and  joy. 

At  the  opposite  casement,  perched  on  the  low  win- 
dow-seat, was  a  \ittle  girl  of  some  eight  or  ten  summers, 
betraying  in  her  dusky  complexion,  her  soft  dark  hair 
,which  fell  in  heavy  curls  on  her  shoulders,  and  the  np 
lifted  eyes  of  lustrous  black,  her  relationship  not  only 
to  the  lady  opposite,  but  to  one  of  the  graduates  of  W. 
Seminary,  at  whose  closing  exercises  we  were  recently 
|>re6ent.     The  little  girl  was  dressed  in  white,  with 


BOMB  AND  FRIENDS.  fg 

•Mb  and  ribbons  as  scarlet  as  her  own  sweet  lips,  and 
betrayed  in  evory  word  and  motion  how  thoroughly  she 
had  been  spoiled  by  every  member  of  the  family 
sircle. 

Seated  by  her,  and  alternately  teasing  and  talking  to 
her,  was  a  gentleman  of  about  thirty-five  years ;  tall, 
well-proportioned,  and  somewhat  distinguished  in  ap- 
pearance, with  an  abundance  of  light  waving  hair,  large, 
dreamy  blue  eyes,  and  a  heavy,  llght-hued  mustache, 
shading  lips  whose  expression  and  smile  were  so  rarely 
sweet  and  fascinating  as  to  soften  somewhat  the  lines 
of  sternness  and  hauteur  which  were  plainly  discern- 
ible in  other  portions  of  his  aristocratic  face.  Yet  a 
shade  of  sadness  sometimes  darkened  the  blue  of  his 
dreamy  eyes,  and  sweeping  over  the  handsome  Saxon 
face,  hardened  the  sweetness  of  the  lips  into  an  exprea- 
»ion  of  rigid  weariness  and  pain,  until 

''  Yon  manrelled  if  a  face  bo  sad, 
At  any  time  had  smiled." 

Just  now  we  see  him  in  his  most  attractive  guise,  ab 
he  unbends  from  his  usual  dignity  to  his  little  compan- 
ion, while  smiles  of  amusement  light  his  handsome 
iyes,  as  he  listens  to  her  merry  prattle  and  apt  returns 
to  his  teasing  remarks. 

Across  the  room,  seated  at  the  piano  and  running 
her  fingers  carelessly  across  the  keys  in  an  absent  or 
pre-occupied  manner,  is  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  house, 
Miss  Isabel  Burton,  who,  though  decidedly  attractive 
in  manner,  possesses  little  of  the  beauty  which  is  lav- 
ished so  freely  on  both  her  younger  sister*.  Her  liair 
t 


96  BOATE  AND  FRldNDS. 

\%  fine  and  dark,  but  Landed  smoothly  back  from  a 
Bomewhat  low  brc  .v ;  her  eyes  arc  less  beautiful  in  fonn 
or  coloring  than  those  of  either  of  her  sisters ;  and  her 
month,  though  ripe  and  rosy,  is  a  trifle  too  wide  for 
beauty.  Still,  she  is  pleasing  and  attractive,  and  bai 
never  experienced  a  want  of  friendship  or  attention 
from  either  of  the  sexes. 

Leaning  against  the  instrument,  and  conversing  with 
her  in  low  and  flattering  tones,  is  a  gentleman  much 
younger  than  the  one  beside  the  window,  and  in  every 
respect  totally  his  opposite.  Dark,  full  bearded,  of 
medium  height  and  size,  and  with  a  flattering  and  def- 
erent manner  so  pleasing  to  most  of  the  opposite  sex, 
he  was  exceedingly  popular  in  society,  and  for  his  gajp 
good-humor  a  welcome  guest  in  nearly  every  home- 
circle  which  he  chose  to  enter. 

"Now,  Mr.  Adair,  if  you  don't  stop  pulling  mj 
curls,  I'll  tell  my  mamma,"  said  the  little  beauty  at  the 
window  ;  "  and  she'll,  she'll —  " 

"  Well,  what  will  she  do,  do  you  think.  Miss  Ilattie  ? " 
inquired  her  companion,  with  another  playful  pull  of 
the  tempting  ringlets. 

"  Box  your  ears,  I  guess,  as  she  threatens  to  do  U; 
me  when  I  step  on  the  flowers,  or  tear  my  dress,  c« 
drop  my  jelly  on  the  table-cloth." 

"  I  suppose  she  only  threatens,  eh  ? "  returned  ttc 
gei:tl(;man,  laughing. 

'•'  That's  all  I "  with  a  lowered  tone  and  arch  glance 
a'^'ose  at  her  mother.  "  Because  y3u  see  when  the»*e  is 
a  prospect  of  anything  else,  I  run  aw&y,  and  the  next 
time  shd  6ee&  me  she  has  ^orgotten  all  about  it     Bella 


HOME  AND  FRIENDS.  VI 

•colds  me  too,  sometimes,  but  Berrie  never  Joes.  Do 
fou  know  my  sister  Berrie,  Mr  Adair  ? " 

**  I  haven't  that  honor,  Miss  llattie !  What  sort  of  a 
borry  is  she?  a  straw-berry,  black-berry,  hoUy-beny, 
M  what  ? " 

"She  isn't  either P''  returned  Miss  Hattie,  pout- 
ing at  this  ridicule  of  her  favorite  sister.  "  She'a 
A  real  pretty  young  lady!  prettier  than  Belle,  or 
Jennie  Wardell,  or  I  either !  She's  the  very  prettiest 
of  the  family,  everybody  says,  and  I  love  her  dearly.'^ 

"Prettier  than  you,  is  she?"  said  her  companion, 
highly  amused.  "  Well,  that  might  be  and  not  be  very 
pretty,  might  it  not,  Miss  Vanity  ? "  and  again  the 
flowing  curls  received  a  gentle  pull. 

"  Belle  Burton,  isnH  Berrie  real  handsome  ? "  called 
the  indignant  child;  and  her  sister  arose  and  came 
smilingly  forward  at  the  summons. 

"  What's  the  trouble,  llattie  ? "  she  inquired.  "  Are 
you  and  Mr.  Adair  quarrelling  again,  as  usual  ? " 

The  gentleman  smiled  as  he  returned :  "  This  young 
lady  maintains  that  she  has  a  sister  Berrie  who  is  de- 
cidedly the  flower  of  the  family,  and  is  highly  indig- 
nant because  I  presumed  to  suggest  that  she  might  be 
Bven  prettier  than  Miss  llattie  herself,  and  yet  not  be 
very  beautiful." 

"  Hattie  is  very  fond  of  her  sister,  and  has  an  ex- 
alted opinion  of  her  beauty ;  I  believe  she  is  generally 
considered  very  pretty,"  replied  Miss  Burton,  smilingly. 

"  Then  he  said,  too,  that  she  was  a  black-berry,  or 
hoUy-berry,  or  feomething ! "  pouted  the  child. 

"  Well,  she  is  rather  dai'k  like  the  rest  of  us,  that's  t 


%$  BOMB  AND  FRTBNDB. 

fact ! "  returned  Belle,  with  a  little  i-^aIcaI  JitglL 
"  And  holly-berry  wouldn't  be  so  biid  a  name  for  h« 
either.  So  don't  pout,  Hattie  dear  !  Don't  you  know 
Mr.  Adair  is  only  teasing  you  ?  Wait  until  your  sister 
ie  at  home,  and  perhaps  he  will  adini:^  her  as  much  m 
you  desire." 

"  Is  the  young  lady  expected  soon  ? "  he  inquired,  in- 
differently. 

"  Oh,  yea  1  we  hope  to  see  her  to-morrow  erenin^. 
She  has  been  in  Massachusetts  at  school  for  some  time, 
and  expects  to  graduate  to-day.  Mamma  and  I  wished 
very  much  to  aitend  the  exhibition,  but  could  not 
leave  home  very  well  just  at  this  time.  You  are  sure 
to  like  my  sister,  Mr.  Wright  I "  she  continued,  ab- 
ruptly turning  to  the  gentleman  who  had  followed 
her  from  the  piano,  and  was  then  standing  near  her, 
playing  with  her  fan,  which  he  had  taken  from  the 
table. 

"  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  it,"  he  returned  somewhat 
lazily.  "  She  must  be  pretty  and  agreeable  also,  to 
judge  from  the  remainder  of  the  family,  whose  ac- 
quaintance I  am  so  fortunate  as  to  have  made.  Don't 
you  think  so,  eh.  Miss  Ilattie  ? " 

"  If  I  say  '  yes,'  Mr.  Adair  will  call  me  Miss  Vanity. 
Oh,  there's  pa  1 "  and  with  a  hour  1  she  was  out  the 
window,  and  running  down  the  walk  was  lifted  up  to 
receive  the  expected  kiss,  and  then  with  her  hand  la 
hie,  walked  demurely  by  her  father's  side  as  he  ap 
proached  the  house. 

Mr,  Burton  was  a  tall,  pleasant,  inteUectual -looking 
man  of  gome  Hfty-five  years,  and  as  he  entered  the  par>^ 


HOME  AND  FRIENDS.  Sf 

lor,  4nd  having  greeted  his  daughter's  nsitors,  irow  a 
chair  near  his  wife  and  sat  down  with  Hattie  on  hii 
knee,  he  said,  "  Well,  wife,  I  suppose  we  may  expect 
to  see  Berrie  here  with  us  to-morrow  night.  I  hopu 
she  will  have  passed  a  good  examination  to-day.  We'll 
be  glad  to  see  her  home  again,  won't  we,  pet  I  She  has 
been  gene  a  long  time." 

**'  Pa,  may  I  go  to  the  depot  with  you  I  I  can't  wait 
till  she  gets  way  up  to  the  house  before  I  see  her.  May 
I,  pa  1  Oh  dear  I  I  wish  she  was  coming  to-night  I 
Say,  pa,  may  I  ? " 

"  Why  yes,  dear.  I  don't  know  why  you  shouldn't, 
if  your  mother  is  willing." 

**  Belle,  there  comes  Jennie  Wardell  and  Mr.  Mal- 
vern," called  Hattie,  and  Miss  Burton  stepped  through 
the  low  French  window  to  meet  and  welcome  h^ 
friends. 

The  new-comers  were  a  tall,  light-compie^OLel 
vivacious  young  lady,  about  Miss  Burton's  age,  and  a 
gentleman  decidedly  plain-looking,  but  with  a  bearing 
proud  and  high,  and  a  manner  by  turns  haughty  and 
suave.  Both  were  well  and  fashionably  dressed,  and 
appeared  to  be  on  the  best  of  terms  with  ea^h  othei 
and  the  world  in  general. 

"Why,  where  is  Berrie?"  inquired  Mlsm  "Waraeii^ 
as  she  entered  the  parlor. 

"  Oh,  we  do  not  expect  her  until  to-morrow  ere," 
was  replied.  "  The  school  does  not  close  until  late  this 
afternoon." 

"  Why,  I  thought  she  was  to  arrive  to-day,  and  came 
ap  this  evening  ex  oresely  to  see  her.    I  expect  she  has 


yO  HOME  AN'.    FRIENDS. 

grown  very  pretty  since  I  saw  her.     Yon  know  I  WM 
ont  of  town  the  last  time  she  was  home." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  slie  has  changed  much,"  Misa 
Burton  returned,  "  except  that  she  may  be  a  little  taller 
and  more  womanly.  We  always  thought  her  rather 
pretty^  though  perhaps  we  look  at  her  with  partial 
eyes." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  Berrie  was  always  a  little  beauty,  and  when 
she  enters  society  I  expect  will  create  a  decided  sensa- 
tion ;  then  you  and  I  will  have  to  stand  aside,  I  sup- 
pose," with  a  little  laugh  and  coquettish  glance  in  the 
direction  of  the  gentlemen.  "  I  am  sorry  she  has  not 
arrived,  but  she  will  be  here  in  time  for  the  sailing 
party  next  Tuesday,  will  she  not  ?  You  are  going, 
Belle,  of  course  I  " 

"  1  am  not  so  sure  1  What  is  it  ?  I  have  heard 
not^iing  about  it  as  yet,"  Miss  Burton  replied. 

'^  What  ?  Has  neither  of  those  gallant  young  gen- 
tlemen told  you  anything  about  it?  " 

She  looked  from  one  to  the  other  inquiringly,  and 
Mr.  Wright  returned  in  the  lazy  manner  he  sometimei 
assumed  :  "  Scarcely,  Miss  Wardell !  as  I,  at  least,  am 
vet  to  be  enlightened  myself  in  regard  to  it,  and  though 
af  course  I  cannot  speak  for  Mr.  Adair,  T  presume  he 
i8  as  ignorant  as  I  am,  or  he  would  douttiess  have  al- 
ia dad  to  it." 

*'  1  have  heard  ncthing  of  I't  1  "  Mr.  A.iair  quietly 
ran  *rked. 

*'  \rell  I  I  wonder  where  all  you  people  have  been 
for  the  last  day  or  two  I  have  heard  scantely  any- 
tking  else.     We  are  to  charter  a  sloop — a  steamer  it 


EOME  AND  FRISNDS.  JX 

too  f«Bt  and  modern — and  ran  down  to  Newport,  gt)  on 
board  the  old  '  Constitution'  that  is  lying  there,  visit 
the  fort  and  other  places  of  interest,  dine  at  one  of  the 
hotels,  and  return  by  moonlight.  "Won't  it  be  gay  1 
Of  course  you  will  all  go,  and  Berrie  too  I  We  can't 
get  along  without  her." 

"  Why  yes !  it  would  be  very  pleasant,  I  Bhould 
think,"  Miss  Burton  replied,  "  but  who  has  the  man- 
agement of  the  afEair,  and  how  should  wo  all  go  nnlesi 
we  are  invited  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  much  more  about  it  myself— 
you  see  my  own  information  is  soon  exhausted — bat 
supposed,  of  course,  all  our  immediate  circle  were  to 
go;  if  not,  I  am  sure  I  don't  care  to.  How  is  it,  Henry, 
don't  you  know  something  more  about  it  ? "  Misa 
Wardell  continued,  turning  to  the  gentleman  who  had 
accompanied  her. 

"  Mr.  Thurston  and  Frank  White  spoke  to  me  about 
it,"  he  replied.  "  Said  it  was  all  arranged,  and  men- 
tioned those  who  were  to  be  invited.  I  believe  all  the 
present  company  were  included  in  the  list,  and  I  sup- 
posed most  of  them  had  been  spoken  to  about  it. 
Doubtless  they  will  send  out  formal  invitations  in  a 
day  or  two." 

"Oh,  I  ccncluded  that  was  already  done!"  re» 
marked  Miss  Wardell. 

"  Why  ?  Have  you  received  one  ? "  inquired  Misi 
Burton. 

"Well— no — not  exactly;  except  frcm  Henry  here, 
and  that  was  not  very  formal."  she  returned  laugh- 
ing, but  blushing  a  little  also;  "but  I  supposed  the 


n  HOME  AND  FRIBJfDB. 

gentlemen  had,  and  were  to  invite  what  ladiei  tlMf 
ehoee.' 

"  Well,  it  is  a  delightful  sail,  and  I  preeume  nona  of 
Clia  girls  will  be  averse  to  accepting  gach  an  mTiter> 
tioD,"  said  Miss  Burton,  laughingly. 

"When  did  you  say  the  affair  was  to  come  offf" 
Inquired  Mr.  Adair. 

"  Next  Tuesday,  I  think,  wasn't  it,  Henry  !  " 

"  Next  Tuesday  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  ii  the  time 
appointed  for  rendezvous,  I  believe." 

After  some  more  discussion  of  this  and  kindred 
•ubjects,  the  whole  party  arose  to  take  their  leave. 

"  Give  my  love  to  Berrie  when  she  arrives,  and  toll 
her  I  shall  run  up  to  see  her  as  soon  as  possible," 
Baid  Miss  Wardell,  as  she  kissed  Belle  at  parting 
"  How  nice  it  will  be  to  have  her  home  all  the  time." 

"Yes I  we  are  all  anticipating  it  very  much,"  »aid 
Belle,  "  especially  Hattie,  who  is  very  impatient  for 
the  time  to  arrive,  and  has  talked  of  nothing  else  all 
day,  scarcely." 

"  Keall}'  I  I  have  a  great  desire  to  see  the  yomig 
lady  I  have  heard  so  frequently  mentioned  this  even- 
lEg,"  said  Mr.  Wright.  "  You  may  count  on  a  call 
from  me  to-morrow  evening,  if  my  presence  so  8O0n 
after  her  arrival  will  not  be  an  intrusion" 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  I  assure  you  I  An  d  Mr.  Adair, 
shall  we  not  see  you  also  I  " 

"  Thank  you.  Miss  Burton,  I  should  be  most  happ> 
to  call,  but  I  intend  to  run  up  to  Boston  to-monow^ 
consequently  it  will  not  be  in  my  power  to  do  lo,  as  ] 
•hall  not  return  until  the  following  day." 


*'  Very   well  I     ^Then  yoa  are  at  leifiire  then,  w« 
/iall  expect  to  Bee  you." 

"  Thanks  1  1  shall  certainly  do  myself  the  honor  to 
uall  soon,"  he  returned. 

"  Oh,  Belle,  give  us  some  music,  please,  before  wo 
go  1 "  and  Miss  Wardell  sat  do^m  as  if  assured  that  her 
informal  request  would  be  granted. 

"  Please  excuse  me  to-night,  Jennie.  I  am  not  in  a 
musical  mood.  Berrie  will  give  you  something  worth 
while  when  she  gets  home,  I  expect  She  ia  the 
musical  one  of  the  family,  you  know !  ** 

"  Miss  Berrie  again  1 "  exclaimed  Mr.  Wright,  laugh- 
ing.  "  What  an  important  personage  she  muBt  be ! 
Aren*t  you  curious  to  see  her,  Adair  f " 

"  Exceedingly  I "  that  gentleman  replied,  with  hii 
fascinating  smile,  and  after  a  few  more  last  wordt  the 
visitors  took  their  leave. 

Mr.  Adair  and  Mr.  Wright  walked  slowly  and  almost 
silently  together  to  their  hotel,  each  occupied  with  sur 
mises  as  to  the  *>er8om.j.ty  of  the  young  lady  of  ^hom 
they  had  heard  so  much  dnr ug  the  evening ;  while 
Miss  Burton  closed  the  piano,  drew  down  the  blinds, 
pausing  to  note  the  rare  loveliness  of  the  perfect  night, 
and  having  turned  out  the  lights,  passed  up  to  her 
own  cosy  room,  where  her  little  sister,  in  all  the  flush 
and  sweetness  of  childhood's  peerless  beauty  and  in- 
nocence, lay  dreaming  away  a  few  of  the  hours  thai 
must  elapse  before  she  should  see,  once  more,  her  long 
absent  and  favorite  sister,  unconscious  that  ere  the  heavy 
fingers  of  slumber  should  again  close  her  starry  eyes, 
her  little  heart  would  be  swelling  with  the  grief  of 

r 


u 


nO}fE  .IND   FRIENDS. 


dlMppointcd  affection  and  hope,  as  reai  and  poi^ttAnt 
to  the  loving  heart  of  the  child,  aa  would  be  life't 
ftfter  triali  to  the  matarer  mind  ai.d  sejiaibilitiei  ol  tht 


wcnuui. 


CHAPTER  m. 

AN   EVKNINO   IN  BOSTON. 

**  A  rednndantly  Bensaons  nature,  eaoh 
■rer  patent  to  beauty." 

OWXN  MSBSDmL 

'HE  clock  in  the  hall  of  the  seminary  had  jnflt 
struck  the  hour  of  nine,  and  alone  in  her  own 
little  room  for  the  moment,  Miss  Berrie  Bmion, 
still  in  holiday  attire,  knelt  before  her  open  trunk, 
placing  therein  the  last  of  the  numerous  articles  of 
wearing  apparel,  which  for  the  last  hour  or  two  had 
been  scattered  around  the  room — spiled  on  every  avail- 
•ble  chair  and  table,  while  dresses  of  various  colors  and 
textures  were  thrown  in  a  promiscuous  heap  on  the  low, 
white  bed. 

Her  fellow  pupils  had  been  running  in  and  out  all 
the  evening,  and  she  herself  had  made  more  than  one 
flying  visit  to  the  adjoining  apartments,  but  all  seemed 
to  be  at  present  occupied  in  their  own  rooms,  and  Ber- 
rie was  left  alone. 

One  or  two  dresses  folded  ready  for  packing  itil] 


M  AS  BVENiNo  nr  BOSTOir. 

Uy  on  the  floor  by  her  side ;  while  she,  pausing  ia  h«f 
occupation,  with  a  dreamy  smile  on  her  scarlet  lipi  *nd 
in  her  large,  dark  eyes,  with  her  elbow  resting  on  tba 
edge  of  her  trunk,  aid  her  cheek  in  her  hand,  sat 
dreaming  of  the  home  and  friends  so  dear  to  her,  &n4 
which  she  hoped  so  soon  to  see,  unconscious  that  her 
name  was  on  every  lip  and  in  every  heart  in  that  loroi 
spot,  at  that  very  moment. 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  go  Jiome^  after  a  prolonged  and 
perhaps  unwilling  absence  1  With  what  a  glad,  sweet 
thrill  beats  the  heart  at  thought  of  the  loving  and 
joyful  welcome  awaiting  it  there ;  the  almost  tearful 
kisses  of  the  happy  mother,  the  glad  embrace  and  fer- 
vent "  God  bless  you  1 "  of  the  gratified  father,  the 
laughing,  loving  greetings  of  sisters  and  friends,  as  they 
all  crowd  around,  eager  to  catch  every  tone,  word,  and 
smile  of  the  long-absent  wanderer.  What  an  infinitude 
and  variety  of  questions  are  asked  and  answered,  what 
an  inexhaustible  amount  of  information  is  imparted, 
all  in  the  smallest  possible  space  of  time,  while  cour- 
tesy is  totally  disregarded,  and  every  one  is  speaking 
in  a  breath,  each  seeming  more  desirous  than  the  other 
to  testify  their  joy  in  the  glad  reunion  of  hearts  at 
well  as  hands.  Truly,  "  Be  it  ever  bo  humble,  thereat 
no  place  like  hoire." 

Miss  Berrie's  anticipatory  reverie  was  interropted 
by  the  entrance  of  her  friend,  Maud  Lester,  who,  seal- 
ing herself  carelessly  on  the  edge  of  the  open  tnm^ 
exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  Berrie,  I  have  just  the  nicest  plan  tn  propoM^ 
and  I  want  yon  to  say  yes  in  advance.    Indeed,  I  ghaS 


Air  SYENIHQ  ly  BOSTOIf.  17 

Bot  take  no  for  answer,  so  promise  before  I  arfold 
it,  that  you  will  do  your  part  towards  carrying  it  out." 

**  I  don't  know,  Maud,  about  making  promises  in  tke 
dark ;  disclose  your  mysterious  plan,  and  if  it  is  nicey 
ft/9  you  assert,  you  may  be  certain  I  shall  say  yes  to  it 
if  I  can.  What  is  it  ?  1  am  all  curiosity  to  know,"  re" 
turned  Berrie,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  you  can  if  you  choose,  and  you  must  choose," 
with  a  little  imperious  toss  of  her  head.  "  You  know," 
ihe  went  on,  "  we  shall  not  be  likely  to  see  each  other 
again  for  a  long  time,  and  I  don't  feel  like  parting 
with  you  just  yet,  so  I  want  you  should  stop  in  Boston 
to-morrow  instead  of  going  on  home,  and  spend  at  least 
a  day  and  night  with  me.  Don't  say  no,  yet,"  as  Ber- 
rie opened  her  lips  to  reply.  "  Ned  will  be  sure  to 
meet  me  at  the  depot,  and  I  will  send  him  down  to 
your  brother's  office  to  let  him  know  you  are  in  town, 
and  he  will  come  up  and  spend  the  evening ;  and 
we'll  have  Alice  Havens,  and  Carrie  Andrews,  and  Tom 
Harding,  and  one  or  two  others  in,  and  have  a  gay  time 
generally ;  or  else  all  visit  some  place  of  amusement, 
if  there  chances  to  be  any  worth  attending  just  now ; 
or,  better  yet,  perhaps  take  a  moonlight  sail  down  the 
haibor — ^you  know  the  evenings  are  beautiful  now. 
Somiithing  at  least  to  remember  our  farewell  to  school- 
days by.  Come,  say  yes,  Berrie,  you  know  I  will  not 
accept  a  refusal." 

"  Oh,  Maud,  i  should  like  it  so  much  I  "  Berrie  re- 
turned regretfully.  "  I  always  do  have  such  a  pleas 
ant  time  at  your  house ;  but  they  will  expect  me  at 
home,  and  I  fear  be  greatly  disappointed  if  i  do  not 


18  Alt  BVEKINB  IN    I08T0N, 

go.  Hattie  at  least  will,  and  I  preanme  the  reil 
ftlflo.  So  I  am  afraid  I  shall  liave  to  say  uo,  after  all,* 
with  a  Bmile  and  pressure  of  the  hand  Ma;id  in  her 
earnestness  had  laid  on  hers. 

"  Indeed,  though,  you  must  not  I  You  can  write  t 
lote  home  and  tell  them  about  it,  and  it  will  be  ail 
right.  You  know  they  will  have  you  all  the  time  when 
they  once  get  possession  of  you,  so  you  see  I  mean  to 
keep  you  while  I  can." 

"  But  perhaps  you  can't,"  laughed  Berrie. 

"'Possession  is  nine  points  of  the  law,*  they  say, 
and  if  I  don't  keep  you  it  will  not  be  my  fault.  Be- 
sides, you  will  see  your  brother,  remember  I  Isn't  that 
an  inducement  ? " 

"You  know  I  am  never  disinclined  to  go  home 
with  you,  Maudie,  I  always  enjoy  it  so  much!  I 
would  like  to  see  Charlie  again  also,  and  mother  would 
be  pleased  to  hear  directly  from  him  ;  still  I  am  afraid 
I  ought  not.  Hattie  will  fret  so  if  I  do  not  make  my 
appearance  to-morrow  night." 

"Oh,  she  will  survive  it,  I  guess.  Write  a  note 
to  her  especially,  and  that  will  console  her  perhaps. 
Little  girls  always  like  to  receive  letters,  you  know." 

"  But  I  have  placed  all  my  note-paper  in  the  very 
bottom  of  my  trunk,"  expostulated  Berrie. 

"  Well,  mine  isn't  packed  yet ;  come  into  my  roonr 
and  write  your  note." 

"Wait  until  I  finish  putting  m  tneee  things,"  aa 
Haud  was  drawing  her  away  ;  and  she  began  hastily 
to  place  the  folded  dresses  at  her  side  in  the  alitsady 
nearly  filled  re:^ptacle.     CTndemeath  them  all  was  one 


JUf  EVSNnfQ  IN  BOSTON.  99 

of  her  school  books  which  she  had  overlooked,  and 
tacking  it  dowu  at  the  side  cf  the  trunk,  she  exclaimed 
in  a  tone  of  relief:  "There  goes  the  last  of  school  1 
If  I  am  not  heartily  glad  I  am  through  with  it,  no  one 
ever  was.  I  am  tired  to  death  of  study,  and  don't  think 
I  shall  want  to  see  a  book  again,  for  a  month  at  least*" 

"  What  I  you  that  are  so  fond  of  reading,  disgusted 
with  books  ? "  laughed  Maud. 

"  Well,  I  do  like  to  read,  but  I  learn  so  abominably 
hard,  that  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  commit  to  mem- 
ory another  word  of  anything  as  long  as  I  live ;  and  T 
think  I'll  be  content  not  to  read  any  either,  for  a  time 
Well,  I  believe  everything  is  packed  now,  excepting 
the  dress  I  have  on,  and  that  I  will  leave  until  mom- 
ing." 

"  Come,  then,  and  write  your  note  ;  "  and  tnming 
down  the  light,  the  two  girls  left  the  room,  and  pio 
ceeded  to  Maud's  apartment  across  the  corridor. 

The  morning  dawned  bright  and  lovely,  and  the 
young  ladies,  having  taken  a  regretful  leave  of  the 
remainder  of  their  schoolmates,  with  many  a  promise 
of  correspondence  or  future  visits,  were  early  en  route 
for  Boston.  The  short  and  pleasant  ride  was  speedily 
accomplished,  and  scarcely  later  than  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  the  domes  and  spires  of  the  lovely  Tri- 
mountain  city  arose  to  view,  and  they  were  whirled 
into  the  Eastern  depot,  to  find,  as  they  had  anticipated, 
Maud's  brother  Edward,  or  Ned,  as  he  was  always 
called,  awaiting  their  arrival. 

"  Well,  Miss  Berrie  1 "  he  exclaimed,  soon  after  their 
greetingt  were  over,  "  how  do  you  find  yourself  aftei 


10  AS  BVEirnrQ  nr  bobtos. 

the  fatigues  and  trinmphs  of  exhibiticn  S  gradaAted 
with  the  highest  honors,  I  Buppoee  1  I  am  reallj  de- 
lighted to  see  you,  my  bonnie  13errie,  but  there  ia  no 
train  for  Providence  in  an  hour  or  two  yet ;  you  had 
better  go  home  with  us,  and  wait  until  to-morrow  be- 
fore you  continue  your  journey." 

"  JuBt  what  she  intends  to  do,  Master  Ned  1  bo  put 
Ds  in  a  carriage,  and  run  down  to  Charlie  Borton'a 
office  ;  tell  him  Berrie  is  in  town,  and  ask  him  to  come 
'ip  to  dinner  this  evening." 

"  Why,  my  dear  sister,  do  you  suppose  I  can  leave 
you,  and  our  little  Strawberry  here,  so  soon  after  your 
anivaU  There  will  be  time  enough  to  see  Charlie 
after  I  have  taken  you  home.  Here's  a  carriage,  jump 
in,  and  then  give  me  your  checks." 

He  handed  them  in,  and  while  the  young  ladiet 
were  arranging  themselves  comfortably  for  the  drive, 
Mr.  Lester  walked  off  to  attend  to  their  baggage.  He 
was  a  very  agreeable  young  gentleman  of  about  twenty- 
five,  very  like  his  sister  in  personal  appearance,  al- 
though somewhat  more  lively  and  jocular  in  manner, 
and  one  of  the  most  audacious  of  young  gentlemen  in 
his  intercourse  with  the  ladies,  although  ever  retaining 
for  them  a  thorough  and  gentle  respect.  He  and  Ber- 
rie had  always  been  warm  friends,  and  flirted  desper- 
ately whenever  they  were  together.  Whether  anything 
jnore  serious  than  a  little  passing  amusement  was  in- 
tended by  it,  I  presume  neither  had  ever  thought  to 
inquire.  It  seemed  perfectly  natural  for  thenn  to  co- 
quet with  each  other,  and  both  recognized  the  other'i 
dobility  and  purity  of  heart  and  character. 


AH  EVENUfQ  IN  BOBrOJf.  4] 

"Well,  girls  1"  Ned  exclaimed,  when  tbey  wer« 
fciirly  «7i  route  for  their  home  in  the  Higolands,  "  what 
do  you  propose  to  do  with  yourselves  this  afternoon 
and  evening  ?  How  will  you  exist  without  your  be- 
loved lessons  ? " 

"Lessons!  don't  mention  them  !"  returned  Berrio, 
with  a  laugh,  and  shrug  of  her  sloping  shoulders. 
"  We  have  forsworn  lessons  forever  ;  left  them  all  be- 
hind us  at  the  seminary  ;  pray  do  not  remind  us  that 
we  ever  were  school-girls  ;  I  for  one  vsdsh  to  ignore  the 
fact  entirely.  So  '  Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead,'  I 
beg  of  you  1 " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Strawberry,  please  excuse  me  1''  with 
a  comically  deprecating  manner.  "  I  will  never  men- 
tion  school  again." 

"  See  that  you  do  not,"  laughed  Berrie.  "  For  if 
ever  any  one  was  disgusted  with  it,  I  am  1 " 

•'  May  I  be  allowed  to  inquire  again,  young  ladieSy 
what  your  plans  are  for  the  day  or  evening  ? "  returned 
Ned  meekly,  and  twirling  his  thumbs  in  pretended 
bashfulness. 

"  We  have  no  settled  ones,"  Maud  replied ;  "  haf 't 
thought  of  two  or  three." 

"  And  those  are — " 

"  To  have  some  company  at  home,  visit  some  place 
of  amusement,  or  take  a  sail  by  m'^orlight  down  the 
harbor." 

"  The  sail  would  be  very  pleasant,"  answered  Ked, 
"  but  the  notice  is  too  short  to  get  up  a  party  and  en- 
gage a  steamer;  so  we  shall  be  obliged  to  lay  that 
project  aside,  unleaa  you  like  to  go  in  row-boat»." 


AN  EYENiyQ  IJ^  P08T09. 

**  No,  I  thank  yon  I "  lauglied  Berrie ;  '  for  thooglk 
k  Wilt- water  bath  miglit  be  refreshing  this  warm  weather, 
I  have  no  fancy  for  discovering  how  the  bottom  of  the 
bay  L)ok8  on  close  inspection ;  at  least  until  I  have 
beec  home  once  more,  and  seen  my  dear  manmuL 
So  count  me  out  on  that,  please  !  " 

'"  The  Bail  is  impracticable,  then.  And  as  to  amuse- 
ments," Ned  continued  musingly,  "  there  is  a  passable 
entertainment  at  the  Howard  now — nothing,  of  course, 
like  the  winter  plays,  but  very  good  for  the  season, 
nevertheless.  Then  there  is — let  me  see  1  this  is  Wed- 
nesday, I  believe— yes,  there  is  a  baud  concert  on  the 
Common  this  evening.  Gilmore's  band  officiates, 
and  they  have  a  fine  programme  advertised  for  the 
occasion." 

"  Oh,  let  it  be  the  concert,  by  all  means  1 "  exclaimed 
both  the  girls  in  a  breath. 

"  It  will  be  much  pleasanter  than  to  be  shut  up  in  a 
warm,  close  theatre.  We  will  leave  home  early,  and 
take  a  stroll  around  the  Public  Garden  previous  to  the 
concert ;  it  must  be  lovely  now,  and  you  know  we 
haven't  seen  it  since  we  went  skating  there  last  win- 
ter I"  concluded  Maud,  "And  Ned,  you  had  better 
tell  Charlie  to  come  up  at  half -past  five.  I  will  coax 
ma  to  have  dinner  a  little  earlier  than  usual  to-night, 
•o  we  need  not  be  obliged  to  hurry." 

"Very  well!  do  you  mean  to  take  any-one  else 
along  ? " 

"  Why  yes," — hesitatingly,  "  Alice  Havens  and  Tom 
Harding  I  guess,  if  they  are  not  engaged." 

"  Strawberry,  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  escorting 


AH  8  Vie  If  ma  ria  bobton.  4S 

yoa,  of  coiiree ! "  \ritli  a  killing  look  from  hii  merry 
brown  eyes. 

"  Oh,  1  suppose  I  shall  have  to  take  you,  or  be  beaa* 
less  I  ■'  was  the  saucy  reply,  as  the  driver  drew  up  be- 
fore a  neat  little  cottage,  half-covered  with  climbing 
roses  and  honeysuckle,  and  surrounded  by  tasteful  and 
well-kept  grounds,  on  one  of  the  pleasantest  streets  of  the 
beautiful  Highland  district,  then  called  Roxbury ;  while 
hasty  feet  ran  down  the  gravelled  walk,  impatient  hands 
threw  open  the  carriage  door,  and  losing  arms  clasped 
the  necks  of  both  the  girls  in  equally  joyous  greet 
ing. 

"  Maud,  dear,  you  have  come  at  last,  haven't  you ; 
T  have  been  waiting  so  impatiently  for  the  past  hour. 
Ajid  Berrie,  I  am  ever  so  glad  to  see  you  1 "  exclaimed 
Maud's  younger  sister  Emma,  a  pretty,  sprightly  young 
girl  of  fifteen,  while  within  doors  a  welcome  awaited 
them  from  Mrs.  Lester,  equally  warm  and  earnest,  if 
somewhat  less  demonstrative. 

The  day  passed  very  pleasantly  and  swiftly,  bring- 
ing the  early  dinner  hour,  and  with  it  Ned  Lester 
»nd  Berrie's  brother  Charlie  ; — the  latter  a  tall,  well- 
formed  young  man  of  some  twenty-eight  years,  with 
the  same  waving  dark  hair,  lustrous  eyes,  and  dusky 
complexion  which  characterized  the  rest  of  the  family, 
but  with  the  addition  of  a  heavy  moustache  and  im- 
perial of  the  same  sable  hue  as  his  hair  He  was  very 
like  his  sister  in  appearance,  for,  as  berrie  was  wont 
to  say,  "  there  was  no  variety  in  then-  family,  they  all 
looked  alike,  especially  in  the  dark  "  He  was  some* 
what  indolent  and  nonchalant  in  manner,  with  juat 


44  -Ai^  STENING  nr  aOBTCN. 

sufficient  indifference  in  his  air  to  the  ether  lex,  \M 
make  hiu  irresistibly  fascinating,  and  was  fast  iivlniiiiig 
an  enviable  reputation  in  the  profession  which  he  had 
choeen. 

Dinner  over,  the  four  sallied  out  to  take  their  even- 
ing amusement ;  the  couple  invited  to  accompany  them 
being  engaged.  Charlie  took  immediate  possession  of 
Maud,  and  Ned  drew  Berrie's  hand  in  his  arm,  with  a 
mischievous  squeeze  of  her  soft  white  fingers,  ere  he 
released  them  from  his  clasp. 

After  a  pleasant  walk  around  the  Public  Garden, 
which  was  in  its  height  of  bloom  and  loveliness,  » 
pause  on  the  rustic  bridge  that  spans  the  miniature 
/ake,  a  stroll  through  the  hothouse,  admiring  its  trop- 
ical beauties,  and  inhaling  its  rare  and  odorous  sweet- 
ness, they  crossed  the  street,  and  entering  the  noble  old 
Common,  were  soon  ensconced  on  the  seats  arranged 
for  the  accommodation  of  interested  listeners  around  the 
music  stand,  where  the  members  of  Gilmore's  unriv- 
alled band  were  already  stationed  to  discourse  sweet 
music  to  those  assembled  beneath  the  starry  arches 
of  God's  azure-vaulted  temple. 

A  capital  time  and  place  for  flirting,  as  the  heavy 
ihade  of  the  great  trees  around  rendered  them  almost 
Invisible  io  those  even  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  and 
Master  Ned  improved  the  occasion  to  the  full ;  whisper- 
ing in  the  pauses  of  the  mi  sic,  sweet  speeches  in  the 
rosy  ear  so  near  his  lips,  as  he  bent  his  head  to  a  level 
with  the  beautiful,  peerlessly  crowned  one  at  his  side 
audaciously  pressing  or  raising  to  his  Ups  the  fingeni 
ho  contrived  more  than  once  to  ensnare  in  hi«  ini»> 


AU  ETESma  IN  BOSTON.  Aft 

rhievouB  ^lasp,  while  Berrie  blushed,  laughed,  Molded, 
•nd  oner  succeeded,  unobserved  by  the  others  in  tht 
indistinct  light,  to  soundly  box  the  impudent  fellow'i 
ears,  knocking  off  his  hat  in  the  attempt,  which  in  the 
darkness  he  found  it  exceedingly  difficult  to  recover, 
while  his  companions  were  indulging  in  a  hearty  langh 
it  his  expense. 

"  Did  it  pay  ? "  whispered  Berrie  mischievously,  when 
Ned  again  took  his  place  at  her  side ;  which  bo  ex- 
asperated him,  that  he  exclaimed,  "  If  it  didn't  it  ahaUt 
you  tantalizing  girl  I "  throwing  his  arm  around  hef 
Iraist,  and  ere  she  was  aware  of  his  intention  pressing 
his  moustached  lips  to  her  cheek. 

"  You  saucy  fellow  1 "  she  pouted,  "  I'll  Dot  sit  by 
yon  another  moment  I "  and  she  attempted  to  rise,  but 
Ned,  with  his  arm  still  around  her  waist,  held  her 
down,  while  at  every  new  attempt  his  clasp  was  only 
tightened,  until  in  desperation  she  proposed  a  truce^ 
and  agreed  to  remain  in  her  seat  if  he  wonld  release 
her  waist  from  his  clasp. 

"  Indeed,  I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  as  it  is ! "  he  re< 
turned  coolly. 

"  Well,  I  am  not,  if  you  are  I  Charlie,  won't  yon 
make  Ned  behave  ? " 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can,  Berrie,  if  you  are  powerless," 
Charlie  returned  indolently.  "  I  am  sure  your  influ- 
ence is  far  more  potent  than  mine." 

"  Does  it  pay  to  be  saucy,  my  sweet  Berrie  ? "  whim- 
pered Ned  tantalizingly  in  her  ear:  but  Berrie,  noi 
caring  to  hear  more  about  that,  ex  fanned  petolantlr, 
**  Do  be  quiet  I  I  want  to  hear  the  mnsic,"  as  the  er* 


AN  EVEKING  TN   BOSTOIT. 

qnieite  Btrains  of  an  air  from  Il-Trovatore  B^ted  out 
on  the  echoing  hush  of  the  evening  air. 

The  concert  closed  at  last  with  a  grand  medley  oi 
national  airs,  and  their  subsequent  careless  stroll  down 
Tremont  Street  was  ended  at  Copeland's,  which  wm 
already  nearly  filled  with  lively,  chatting  groups,  di*- 
cnssing  strawberries,  creams,  and  other  delicacies  of 
the  season. 

Our  party  took  their  places  at  an  unoccupied  table^ 
»nd  while  waiting  to  be  served  by  the  busy  waiters, 
amused  themselves  by  laughing  and  sarcastic  com- 
ments on  the  various  groups  around  them. 

"  That  young  green-horn  over  there,"  said  Ned, "  thai 
acts  as  if  he  hardly  knew  what  to  do  with  his  cream,  re- 
minds me  of  a  country  acquaintance  of  mine,  who  was 
in  town  here  last  summer.  It  was  his  first  visit  to  the 
city,  and  of  course  he  was  fearfully  green,  and  every- 
thing new  and  wonderful  to  hira.  1  had  more  fun  in 
showing  him  the  lions,  than  I  ever  did  before  in  my 
life ;  and  as  he  did  not  mind  being  laughed  at  I  in- 
dulged my  amusenient  to  the  full  I  tell  you,  Charlie, 
I  gained  nearly  a  pound  a  day  while  he  was  heio. 
Fact — all  because  I  laughed  so  much,  you  see.  Well, 
one  evening  we  had  been  to  Morris'  Bi  others — it  waa 
early  in  the  season,  before  they  left  town — and  I  had 
made  my  throat  sore  with  laughing,  not  so  much  at 
them,  as  at  my  comical  companion,  and  his  original, 
'  deown  east '  remarks,  so  I  thought  we  would  go  in  and 
tiave  some  cream,  and  try  and  cool  off  a  little.  I  sup- 
pose the  fellow  never  saw  any  before  in  his  life,  but  he 
look  a  liberal  spoonful  at  the  first  kasie,  and  as  it  wai 


Air  EVENiNi,  ry  boston.  47 

very  solidly  frczen,  he  foand  it  rather  ocol  for  hii 
teeth,  some  of  which  were  not  of  the  best.  Clapping 
his  gieat,  brawny  hand  up  to  his  face,  he  exclaimed, 
*  Golly  1  that's  as  cold  as  ice  I  can't  you  send  it  back, 
and  have  it  warmed  ? '  I  thought  I  should  die  with 
laughing ;  he  did  look  so  comical,  squinting  and  grunt- 
ing over  his  aching  tooth." 

While  Ned  was  talking,  a  waiter  had  drawn  near 
unperceived,  and  enjoying  the  story  as  much  as  the  rest, 
forbore  to  interrupt  the  narrator ;  but,  when  it  was 
ended,  he  touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  asked  him 
what  he  would  like. 

"  Creams  for  four  I  *'  he  returned.  "  What  will  you 
have,  Berrie  ? " 

Pine-apple,  vanilla,  and  chocolate  were  choflen,  and 
Ned  repeated  the  order  for  them,  wholly  forgetting 
himself. 

"  And  you,  sir  1 "  suggested  the  waiter. 

"Me?  oh,  strawberry,  of  course,"  with  a  wicked 
glance  in  the  lovely  face  opposite. 

The  creams  were  brought,  and  silence  for  a  time 
ensued ;  until  Ned,  casually  looking  up,  exclaimed ; 
"  Why,  Berrie,  what  are  you  blushing  at  ?  your  face  ia 
aa  pink  as  the  contents  of  my  saucer." 

Berrie  laughed  and  answered :  "  Hush,  Ned  I  I 
wasn't  aware  that  I  was  blushing,  I  only  happened  to 
glance  up  and  meet  a  pair  of  very  handsome  blue  eyee, 
fixed  intently  upon  me ;  rather  drea  mily  than  imper- 
tinently thongh." 

^  ioid  your  heart  anfwered  to  the  gknce^Aiiid  lent 


41  AN  SVENINO  TN  BOSTON. 

lihe  tell-tale  blood  to  your  cheeks,  eh  ? "  laughed  Gharlk 
teasingly. 

"  Nonsense  1 "  exclaimed  Berrie  petulantly,  butbluih- 
ing  still  more  rosily,  as  one  will  do  when  attention  b 
eaUed  to  it. 

"  Wluch  one  is  it,  Berrie !  shall  I  shoot  hixn  I "  hk' 
quired  Ned,  tragically. 

"  Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself  I "  returned  Berrie,  laugh« 
ing ;  "  you  might  get  knocked  over  yourself." 

Meanwhile,  the  gentleman  in  question,  a  tail,  light- 
complexioned,  fine-looking  man,  recalled  to  himself  by 
the  suddenly  vivid  coloring  of  the  face  on  which  his 
gaze  rested,  had  arisen  and  left  the  saloon,  and  our  party 
soon  after  followed  his  example,  and  took  a  car  for 
home,  well  pleased  with  their  evening's  entertainment 

In  the  meantime,  at  Berrie's  home,  much  disappoint- 
ment was  felt  and  expressed  at  her  non-arrival.  Hattie 
went  to  the  depot  with  her  father,  and  Mrs.  Burton, 
almost  as  impatient  as  the  child,  for  her  daughter's 
arrival,  stood  on  the  piazza  awaiting  their  coming,  when 
Hattie  made  her  appearance  alone. 

"  Pet,  where  are  your  father  and  Berrie  ?  "  she  called, 
SB  Hattie  came  slowly  up  the  walk,  supposing  they  had 
paused  to  speak  with  some  acquaintances,  and  sent 
Hattie  on. 

"Pa  stopped  at  the  post-office,  and  Berrie — Berrie 
didn't  come!"  and  the  child  threw  herself  sobbing  in 
her  mother's  arms. 

**  There,  there,  dear !  don't  cry  » :> ! "  said  the  lady 
■oothingly.  "  Your  sister  will  come  to-morrow,  proW 
My,  and  then  you  will  be  just  as  glad  to  see  her!  '^ 


AN  EVENING  IN  BOSTON  49 

**  She  won't  either,  I  know  I  She'll  stay  in  th>  t  h»t» 
fnl  old  Boston  with  Maud  Lester  for  a  week.  Shi 
always  makes  her  stay  1 "  and  the  child's  sobs  grew 
more  violent  at  the  dark  prospect  she  had  conjured  up. 

Mrs.  Burton  drew  her  in  the  house,  and  sitting 
dowQj  took  her  on  her  lap,  endeavoring  by  soothing 
words  and  caresses  to  quiet  the  grieving  child,  until  at 
last  the  passionate  sobs  ceased. 

<'  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  Hattie  ?  Didn't  Ber 
rie  come?"  inquired  Belle,  as  she  entered  the  room 
just  as  Mr.  Burton  appeared  at  the  gate. 

"  It  seems  not,"  returned  her  mother,  "  and  Hattie  ii 
inconsolable." 

"  Well,  it  is  too  bad !  I  am  disappointed  too.  But 
never  mind,  dear,  perhaps  she  will  have  written.  Pa, 
have  you  a  letter  from  Berrie  ?  "  as  Mr.  Burton  at  that 
instant  entered  the  room. 

"Here's  a  note  for  Hattie,  and  the  handwriting 
looks  wonderfully  like  Berrie's.  I  am  sorry  she  did 
not  come." 

«  Just  look,  Hattie  1  Here  is  a  letter  fi'om  Berrie  all 
for  yourself.  Don't  that  make  up  for  her  not  coming  ? 
Shall  I  read  it  to  you?"  inquired  her  sister,  aa  djM 
took  the  note  from  her  father's  hand. 

"  Yes  I "  was  the  faint  reply,  and  Miss  Burton  openet^ 
the  envelope  and  read  as  follows : 

<«  W.  Seminary,  Tueaday  Bt& 
"  Mt  deas  littlb  8I8TKB 1 — "  Now  do  uot  cry  yom 
pretty  eyes  out,  my  pet,  because  Berrie  does  not  com« 
to-morrow  night  as  you  expect    It  is.  too  bad  to  disap- 
• 


so  AN  EVBNINO  IN  BOSTON. 

point  yon  bo,  I  know,  dear  ;  but  that  naughty  Mftud 
Lester  declares  she  will  not  let  me  go  until  Thnredaj, 
And  you  know,  Hattie  dear,  I  shall  not  see  her  again 
for  ever  so  long,  while  you  will  have  me  all  the  time 
when  I  get  home.  Beside,  I  want  to  see  Charlie  again, 
you  know  ;  so  forgive  your  sister  this  once,  pet,  and 
flhe  will  bring  you  something  pretty  and  nice  from 
Bofrton. 

"  Ask  mamma  to  let  you  come  to  the  depot  to  meet 
me,  and  I  will  surely  be  there  Thursday  eve. — *  Ck)d 
willing,'  as  pa  bids  me  say. 

"  Love  to  ma,  pa,  and  Belle,  and  many  kiasea  to  jonr 
own  dear  self,  from 

"  Your  loving  iiater, 

"Berrio." 

The  letter  seemed  to  have  the  desired  effect,  and 
Hattie  was  soon  chatting  as  gaily  as  ever.  Mr.  Wright 
called  during  the  evening,  as  he  had  expressed  his  inten- 
tion of  doing,  and  also  professed  to  be  disappointed  at 
not  seeing  the  young  lady  of  whom  he  had  heard  wo 
much,  the  precedicg  evening,  and  whom  he  was  really 
quite  carious  to  see  and  know. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

KBTUBNINO   HOME — THE   BTSAITOSB. 

**  He  is  complete  in  f  eatare  and  in  mind, 

?^th  all  good  graoe  to  grace  a  gentleman.**  ^ 

SHAKS8PBAB& 

•*  Oonfosion  thrilled  me  through,  and  secret  joy 
Fast  throbbing,  stole  its  treasures  from  my  heart, 
And  mantling  upward,  turned  my  face  to  crimson.** 

BXTBXS. 

'lIE  following  afternoon,  not  far  from  three 
o'clock,  a  carriage  rolled  swiftly  down  Boylston 
Street,  and  drew  up  at  the  ladies'  room  of  the 
Providence  Depot.  But  before  the  driver  could  assist 
the  occupants  to  alight,  two  gentlemen  stepped  up, 
and  throwing  open  the  door,  handed  the  ladies  out. 

"  Come  in,  and  I  will  get  your  ticket  1 "  said  Charlie 
"  There  is  not  much  time  to  spare.  Ned,  you  had  bet- 
ter take  her  round  to  the  cars." 

Ned  obeyed  orders,  and  they  were  standing  on  the 
platform  when  Charlie  came  up. 

•*  Here  are  your  ticket  and  checks,  Berrie.  Give  mj 
loTe  to  aU  at  home." 


$%  RBTVRNmQ  HOMB-mS  BTRAIfasn. 

"  Good-by,  Charlie  1  take  care  of  yourself,  writ* 
often,  and  come  home  as  soon  as  you  can."  And  Berrie 
threw  her  arm  round  his  neck  for  a  moment  as  he 
itooped  to  kifis  her. 

"  Good-by,  Maudie  dear ;  don't  forget  me,  and  mind, 
I  shall  expect  to  see  you  in  Bristol  before  the  Summer 
is  over,  and  I  will  send  for  Helen  Harrington  also." 
And  two  or  three  kisses  fell  warm  on  her  friend's  lipa. 

"  Farewell,  Ned ;  my  heart  is  almost  broken  at  part- 
ing I"  she  laughed,  and  giving  hija  her  hand,  was 
fuming  away,  when  he  exclaimed  : 

"  See  here,  Berrie  I  I  am  not  going  to  have  any  such 
partiality  as  that  I "  and  suddenly  drawing  her  close, 
Ve  left  a  kiss  on  the  girl's  sweet  lips. 

Berrie  pouted,  the  rest  laughed,  and  Ned  smacked 
his  lips  with  evident  satisfaction,  exclaiming,  "  That's 
good  1  I  tell  you,  Berrie,  stolen  fruit  is  sweet,  particu- 
larly strawberries  !  " 

"  Maud,  what  is  the  matter  with  Ned  ?  he  gets  more 
impudent  every  day  I  I  hope  now  you  are  at  home,  you 
will  teach  him  better  manners,  and  a  little  more  pro- 
priety," pouted  Berrie. 

"  I  shall  take  him  in  hand,  I  assure  you,  Berrie," 
Maud  answered  laughingly.  "  And  I  expect  when  you 
lee  him  again,  he  will  be  a  pattern  of  propriety." 

"  Not  if  there  are  any  tempting  strawberries  around, 
I  am  afraid,"  Ned  returned,  and  Berrie  hastened  into 
the  car  to  escape  his  teasing. 

A  few  moments  later,  when  she  sat  chatting  with  the 
trio  who  still  stood  on  the  platform,  she  suddenly  ex- 
claimed :  ^  Maad,look  around  I   There  ib  my  blu»«jed 


MKTUBNINO  HOMR    THE  BTBANOEB.  51 

idmiror  of  last  evening — the  gentleman  you  wanted 
to  shoot,  Ned;  this  might  be  a  good  opportunity. 
I  wonder  if  he  is  going  on  the  train !  he  looks  u 
though  he  might  be.  Isn't  he  splendid,  Maud  I "  with 
a  teasing  glance  at  Ned,  who  was  looking  daggera  at 
him. 

At  this  moment  the  forward  car  started,  the  gentle- 
man leaped  on  the  platform  of  another,  and  Berrie 
waved  her  last  adieus  to  her  friends,  as  the  train  moved 
slowly  out  of  the  depot,  and  she  found  herself  fairly 
en-route  for  home. 

Notwithstanding  her  expressed  aversion  for  books  a 
day  or  two  previous,  she  soon  drew  one  from  her  bag, 
and  for  a  tinre  was  wholly  absorbed  in  its  contents , 
but  wearying  of  it  at  length,  she  let  it  drop  in  her  lap, 
and  looked  up,  only  to  encounter  again  the  gaze  of  the 
blue-eyed  stranger,  wliose  seat  was  directly  opposite 
her  own.  Berrie  colored  and  turned  to  the  window, 
while  the  gentleman,  ashamed  of  his  apparent  rudeness, 
took  refuge  in  his  paper,  and  Berrie  was  at  liberty  to 
look  where  she  pleased. 

Wondering  who  he  could  be,  and  admiring  him  more 
than  she  would  have  confessed,  the  romantic  school-girl 
beguiled  the  time  with  weaving  many  a  romance,  in 
which  a  gentleman  with  fair  hair  and  handsome  blue 
eyes  figured  conspicuously,  although  the  modest  girl 
herself  took  no  part  in  them,  save  as  a  casual,  but  in* 
terested  observer. 

Thus  the  time  quickly  passed  until  they  reached 
Providence  Junction,  where  she  was  obliged  to  change; 
and  where  she  expected  to  lose  her  opposite  neighbor, 


$i  nETVRNINO  nOME-TUK  STliAITaEa. 

never  doubting  but  Providence  \v:i8  his  destinaticc.  W 
tome  still  more  distant  city. 

She  had  not  noticed  his  leaving  the  car,  and  WM 
therefore  much  surprised,  wlien,  as  she  was  stepping  to 
the  platform,  burdened  with  her  shawl,  bag,  and  book, 
a  hand  was  extended  to  assist  her,  a  musical,  gentle 
manly  voice  exclaimed,  "  Allow  me  1 "  and  she  looked 
up  to  meet  again  the  glance  of  the  fine  blue  eyes  of  her 
fellow-traveller. 

Remarking  that  it  was  "  very  unpleasant  there  for  a 
lady,"  and  relieving  her  of  her  shawl  and  bag,  he  led 
the  way  to  the  Bristol  train,  ensconced  her  in  a  com- 
fortable seat,  and  bowing,  walked  off  to  the  farthef 
end  of  the  car,  before,  in  her  confusion,  she  had  hardly 
audibly  expressed  her  thanks  for  his  kindness.  She 
saw  no  more  of  him  during  the  remainder  of  the  jour- 
ney, and  frequently  caught  herself  wondering  if  he  had 
-eturned  to  the  train  he  had  previously  left. 

About  eight  o'clock  of  the  same  evening,  Miss  oer- 
rie  sat  in  the  pleasant  dining-room  of  her  own  dear 
home,  with  Ilattie,  whose  arm  was  around  her  neck, 
leaning  against  her  chair ;  while  Belle,  still  at  table, 
sat  playing  with  her  napkin  and  ring,  asking  and  an- 
swering innumerable  questions,  and  chatting  gaily  of 
the  many  trifling  events  which  had  occurred  dming 
Berrie's  absence. 

"  Are  there  many  strangers  in  town  tbifl  eummer  ? 
carelessly    inquired    Berrie,  after    a    few    aomexitf' 
silence. 

•*  Yes,  quite  a  number." 

**  You  know  some  of  them,  of  ooorse  I  ** 


» 


RETURNING  HOMR-THE  BTRANQSR  5S 

"Yes,  Beveral ;  some  very  pleasant  people.  There 
are  two  or  three  young  gentlemen  staying  at  one  of  the 
hotels,  who  form  very  pleasant  accessions  to  our  so 
ciety." 

"  Oh,  I  must  tell  you  about  a  gentleman  who  came 
on  the  same  train  that  I  did,  at  least  as  far  as  Provi- 
dence ;  possibly  you  may  know  him  I  I  saw  him  first 
last  evening  at  Copeland's,  and  he  sat  right  oppoeite 
me  in  the  cars,  and  when  we  exchanged  at  the  Junc- 
tion he  assisted  me  and  procured  a  seat  for  me ;  but 
after  that  he  disappeared,  and  I  do  not  know  whether 
he  went  back  to  the  Providence  train,  or  came  on  to 
Bristol ;  at  least  I  saw  no  more  of  him.  He  was  gay, 
Belle,  I  can  tell  you ;  just  my  style ; "  and  Berrie 
laughed  merrily. 

"  Well,  but  how  did  he  look  ? "  inquired  her  sister. 

"'Out  of  his  eyes,'  Ned  Lester  would  say.  Oh. 
Belle,  he's  a  worse  tease  than  ever ;  and  the  moat  im- 
pudent fellow  you  ever  saw  I  He  actually  kissed  me 
two  or  three  times  while  I  was  there,  and  it  wasn't  the 
slightest  use  to  get  angry,  for  he  was  just  as  likely  to 
repeat  it  until  I  was  pleased  again.  He's  a  fearful 
tease ! " 

"  Well,  about  your  travelling  companion  I  " 

"Oh,  yes  I  He  was  tall,  very  light-complexioned, 
with  a  heavy  mustache,  and  lovely  blue  eyes,  with  such 
a  dreamy  look  in  them ;  and  he  speaks  very  prettily 
indeed.  He  is  quite  aristocratic-looking,  and  a  little 
haughty  as  well." 

"  I  don't  believe  I  know  him,"  said  Pelle  musingly, 
"  unleM  it  is  Kngene  Adair.    He  is  somewhat  lik« 


If  RSTURNINQ  HOME—TEE  BTSAirOME. 

what  you  have  described ;  indeed,  very  like,  octme  tt 
think  of  it,  and  I  believe  he  was  to  be  in  Boston  yetteri 
day,  and  return  to-day.  I  would  not  be  sorprlBed  if  it 
were  he," 

"  Eugene  Adair  I "  repeated  Berrie.  "  What  ■ 
pretty  name  1  and  it  would  just  suit  him  too." 

At  this  moment  the  door-bell  rang,  and  Miss  BortOB 
said,  "  There's  the  bell  1  Hattie  dear,  run  to  the  door, 
won't  you  ? " 

Hattie  obeyed  and  returned  in  a  moment,  saying, 
"  It  was  Mr.  Wright  and  Mr.  Adair,  Belle ;  they  are 
in  the  parlor,  and  the  gas  isn't  lighted." 

"  Well,  never  mind,  1  can  light  it  myself.  Come, 
Berrie,  come  in  and  see  if  our  friends  are  identical." 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  me.  Belle  I  my  hair  is  all  in  a  musB, 
and  my  dress  all  dust,  to  say  nothing  of  my  collar  and 
sleeves.     I  can't  go  in  to-night." 

"  Oh,  you  can  run  upstairs  and  dress  in  five  minutes, 
or  come  in  as  you  are ;  you  look  well  enough ;  they 
will  know  you  have  just  returned  home." 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  will  come  in  by  and  by,  and  show 
them  what  a  dowdy  sister  you  have  got.  Where  i« 
ma,  I  wonder  1  " 

"  Upstairs,  I  presume ;  come  soon,  Berrie ; "  and 
Miss  Burton  ran  out  of  the  room,  while  her  sisteFS  pro- 
ceeded upstairs  to  look  for  their  mother. 

They  found  her  in  her  own  sitting-room,  and  after 
chatting  awhile  on  various  topics  of  mutual  interest, 
Berrie  said  :  "  Well,  I  promised  Belie  I  would  go  down 
after  a  little.  They  say  everything  depends  on  first 
impressions,  but  I  fancy  I  shall  not  make  a  very  ft^ 


BMTUSirnro  home-thb  stranqsb.        h% 

Torable  one  to-night,"  with  a  little  laugh,  and  eaieleM 
gmoothing  of  the  tumhled  curia  as  she  passed  the 
mirror. 

"  Oh,  you  are  well  enough,  my  child  I "  said  the  prou'* 
mother,  looking  at  her  with  eyes  that  could  see  no 
Cault  in  this  her  favorite  daughter. 

Hattie  had  kept  close  at  her  sister's  side  all  the  eyen- 
ing  and  now  begged  to  accompany  her  downstairs,  and 
though  her  mother  suggested  it  was  bed-time,  she  was 
allowed  to  go,  and  entered  the  parlor  clinging  to 
Berrie's  hand. 

"  My  sister  Berrie,  Mr.  Wright  I "  introduced  Misa 
Burton,  and  the  gentleman,  who  was  near  the  door  at 
Berrie's  entrance,  bowed  low  over  her  hand,  saying  in 
his  most  winning  tones :  "  I  am  most  happy  to  meet 
you.  Miss  Burton,  and  already  feel  somewhat  ac 
quainted  with  you,  from  hearing  you  so  frequently 
mentioned  by  your  sisters." 

"  Yes  ? "  she  replied  smiling,  but  blushing  a  little 
also,  "  then  you  have  the  advantage  of  me ; "  and  she 
passed  on  down  the  room  with  Belle. 

"  Mr.  Adair,  allow  me  to  present  my  sister ;  Berrie, 
Mr.  Adair  1 "  and  as  he  clasped  the  little  soft  hand  of 
the  girl,  and  in  low,  cultivated  tones,  expressed  hia 
pleasure  in  the  meeting,  she  looked  up  to  meet  the 
familiar  glance  of  the  dreamy  blue  eyes  of  her  late 
travelling  companion,  aad  the  smi:e  which  on  his  lipa 
•eemed  so  fascinatingly  sweet. 

"  I  think  /  also  may  claim  acquaintance  with  Misa 
Berrie,  may  I  not)  Not  alone  on  tJie  grounds  that 
Mr.  Wright  mentions,  but  on  those  of  pretrioui  com- 


(8  BETUBNl^iO  HOME— TEE  STRAJ/BER 

panionship  as  well;  even   though  it  may  haT»  been 
Bomewhat  silent,"  said  Mr.  Adair,  gently. 

Bcrrie  smiled,  and  hardly  knowing  what  to  reply, 
Bat  down  without  answer,  while  the  gentleman,  taming 
to  her  little  sister,  exclaimed,  "  Good  evening,  Mifla 
Elattie,  it  is  an  age  since  I  saw  you  I "  bending  aa 
deferentially  over  the  tiny,  dimp]  jd  hand  of  the  child 
as  he  had  done  over  that  of  he/  young  lady  sister. 

"  Why,  you  saw  me  at  the  door,  a  little  while  ago," 
said  Hattie,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  so  I  did  I  but  scarcely  long  enough  to  say  how- 
do-you-do  ;  so  please  pardon  my  f orgetfulness."  And 
resuming  his  seat  on  the  sofa,  f rojn  which  he  had  just 
arisen,  he  drew  Hattie  down  l>oside  him,  and  for  a 
time  seemed  to  be  wholly  occupied  by  the  lively 
prattle  of  the  little  girl,  while  Jierrie  entered  into  con- 
versation with  her  sister  and  Mr.  "Wright ;  the  latter  of 
whom  was  in  his  most  suave  and  flattering  mood,  while 
he  glanced  from  one  to  the  ofiier  of  the  three  sisters, 
Boliloquizing : 

"  So  this  is  the  beauty  of  the  family,  eh?  Well,  I 
must  say  their  enthusiasm  it  thrown  away,  for  I  can- 
not see  but  either  of  the  others  will  compare  favorably 
with  this  newly-fledged  young  lady,  just  from  boarding- 
BchooL  To  be  sure,  her  haii*  might  be  very  handsome, 
if  the  curls  wen  not  quite  so  tumbled,  the  mouth  ii 
certainly  very  sweet  and  kissable,  and  her  smile  reveala 
white  and  beautiful  teeth.  But  her  eyes  are  rather 
too  large  to  suit  my  fancy,  and  her  dress,  to  say  the 
least,  is  decidedly  unbecoming.  Atter  ail,  that  may 
be  the  trouble.    I  will  w^t  antil  I  see  her  ii^  (>Feiung- 


RBTURNINO  HOME- THE  BTRxtfOEB.  {f 

ireB8,  and  recovered  from  the  fatigne  of  traTelling, 
before  I  judge  of  her  beauty.  She  is  certainly  verj 
easy  and  graceful  in  manner,  for  so  young  a  girl,  and 
1  presume  I  may  like  her  much  on  longer  acquaintance." 

And  Mr.  Adair,  having  seen  her  in  one  of  her  hap- 
piest moods  the  night  before,  was  thinking  that  Misg 
Berrie  was  not  so  lovely  in  travelling  costume  as  she 
had  appeared  to  him  in  her  pretty  toilet  of  the  pre- 
ceding evening. 

A  tasteful  and  becoming  dress  enhances  the  charmf 
of  even  the  most  beautiful ;  and  probably  Berrie  had 
never  looked  so  plain  in  her  life  as  she  did  this  even- 
ing, in  her  high-cut  travelling  dress  of  plain  grey 
poplin,  Tmrelieved  by  the  slightest  vestige  of  color; 
the  narrow  collar  and  sleeves  of  unomamented  linen, 
being  fastened  alone  by  small  gold  studs  and  pin. 
While  her  sisters,  both  dressed  in  fleecy  robes  of  white, 
with  vivid  scarlet  ribbons,  which  were  exceedingly  be- 
coming to  each,  were  undoubtedly  looking  their  best ; 
and  Hattie's  handsome,  drooping  curls,  although  not 
to  be  compai'ed  to  the  wondrously  beautiful  hair  of 
her  sister,  being  this  evening  carefully  and  prettily  ar- 
ranged, presented  a  pleasing  contrast  to  Miss  Berrie'i 
tumbled  ringlets. 

But  Mr.  Adair,  at  least,  could  but  admire  the  free- 
dom from  vanity  the  young  girl  had  shown  by  making 
her  appearance  in  the  presence  of  two  gemlemen, 
whom  she  met  that  evenmg  for  the  first  time,  without 
spending  a  previous  hour  or  two  before  her  mirror, 
wr&nging  her  toilet,  and  attempting  to  render  herself 
lltractiye  to  the  eyes  of  her  sister's  gentlemen  guests. 


IK)  RBiaitNJNO  HOMB-THB  BTBANGBS, 

**  Well,  Mi88  Berrie,  are  you  glad  to  be  throngh  with 
•chool  i  "  inquired  Mr,  Adair,  iu  a  pause  of  his  tfiim*' 
ted  conversation  with  her  little  sister, 

*  I  assure  you,  yes,"  she  laughed,  **  Althonfh  Mf 
Bohov  l-days  have  been  very  pleasant,  yet  I  am  ezoeed- 
ingly  tired  of  study ; "  with  a  little  arch  toas  of  tht 
pretty  head. 

"  But  not  of  books  in  total,  I  conclude,  to  jndge 
from  your  apparent  absorption  in  the  one  yon  were 
reading  on  your  homeward  journey.  May  I  ask  whftt 
interested  you  bo  deeply  ?  " 

"  A  volume  of  Owen  Meredith's  poems,  presented 
to  me  while  in  Boston,"  she  returned. 

" '  Lucile  ? '  "  he  interrogated,  briefly. 

"  No,  sir,  the  '  Wanderer ' ;  I  had  perused  it  p»- 
viously,  and  was  merely  looking  over  favorite  pass** 
ges," 

"  You  have  read  '  Lucile '  ? " 

"  Not  as  yet,  but  I  intend  to  soon,  and  expect  it  tt 
surpass  even  the  *  Wanderer,' "  she  returned,  warmly, 

"You  like  him?" 

^^  Exceedingly !  More  than  any  other  living  podk 
And  you  ? " 

"Yes,  I  admire  him.  He  is  very  gifted,  and  ttt^ 
presBes  hie  sentiments  gracefully  and  musically,"  il^ 
turned  the  somewhat  loss  enthusiastic  gentleman. 

"Yes,"  sa^d  Berrie  hesitatingly j  "  but  I  do  not  thii^ 
in  that  lies  his  greatest  charm  or  power." 

"No?  May  I  ask  the  expression  of  yoor  viewa  tw 
<iie  subject?  your  opinion  as  tc  the  secret  of  faSl 
power?"  said  Mr.  Adair  gently,  delighted  to  dnHf 


BBTUBNINO  HOME—THE  STRAiraJOi.  61 

forth  the  fresh,  unbiased  views  of  this  fair,  ycnng, 
gnilfileBS  girl. 

The  flush  on  her  usually  almost  colorless  chtek 
deepened  perceptibly  as  she  replied  with  girlish  tiin« 
idity: 

"  A  gentleman  once  said  to  me,  that  he  liked  Lord 
Byron,  because  he  was  so  exceedingly  human,  and  J 
think  the  same  may  be  said  of  Owen  Meredith.  He 
Beems  to  have  realized  to  the  full,  all  the  depth  and 
power  of  the  various  passions  he  portrays  so  well — to 
have  Buffered  as  well  as  enjoyed.  The  *  Wanderer,' 
particularly,  seems  to  me  very  earnest,  and  full  of  the 
author's  own  heart." 

"  Yes,  you  may  be  right ;  I  think  you  are.  But  I 
should  judge  one  must  have  experienced  those  same 
passions  of  which  he  writes  so  eloquently — love,  jeal- 
ousy, hate,  and  so  forth,  in  order  to  be  able  to  appre- 
ciate his  expression  of  them." 

**  What  comes  from  the  heart  is  likely  to  reacn  tb© 
heart,  they  say." 

"  True,  true  ;  and  so  you  like  him  1 "  returned  the 
gentleman,  musingly,  while  a  shade  of  exquisite  sad- 
ness swept  over  his  handsome  features,  and  he  looked 
absently  down  at  the  tiny  hand  he  held, — ^Miss  Hattie, 
unaccustomed  to  the  late  hour,  having  fallen  asleep  on 
the  Bofa,  with  her  hand  m  his  clasp. 

Pretty  as  a  picture  the  little  girl  looked,  in  her 
enowy  robe,  with  the  dark  curls  sweeping  her  crimson 
cfieeks — whereon  the  heavy  lashes  lay — and  flowing 
over  her  bare  and  dimpled  shoulders.  But  Eugena 
Adair,  artiflt  though  he  was,  left  unnoted  the  beau^ 


S2  RBTURNINQ  BOMB-TEE  tiTHANOBR 

oi  form  and  coloring  which  was  presented  to  view  in 
the  flush  and  pose  of  the  sleeping  child. 

Pleased  with  the  girl's  clearness  of  expression,  and 
the  depth  of  thought  for  one  so  young,  which  her  an- 
swer betrayed,  and  pained  at  the  recollections  her  worda 
had  awakened,  he  gave  no  thought  at  the  moment  to 
Bught  beside. 

"  And  so  you  like  him,"  he  had  said,  with  the  dreamy 
look  in  his  eyes  which  they  had  worn  when  first  their 
glance  met  hers. 

"  And  so  I  like  him,  yes  1 "  she  laughed  a  little,  ool« 
ored  to  the  tips  of  her  dainty  ears,  and  continued  hes 
itatingly :  "  I  confess  he  always  seems  to  me  to  have 
written  with  his  hand  on  my  heart-strings." 

Mr.  Adair  looked  up  with  an  appreciative  glanoe, 
and  a  smile  of  rare  sweetness,  but  before  he  could  re- 
ply— as  perhaps  he  had  no  intention  of  doing — Mr. 
Wright,  who  with  Belle  had  been  standing  at  a  distant 
window  for  some  time,  and  had  just  returned  to  theii 
immediate  vicinity,  interposed  with,  "Miss  Berrioj 
may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  leading  you  to  the  piano  ? " 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  "Wright,  you  must  excuse  me  this  even- 
ing," she  returned.  "  My  music  is  not  unpacked,  and 
1  am  somewhat  fatigued  as  well.  At  some  other  time 
I  shall  be  happy  to  oblige  you.  Belle  will  favor  you, 
I  am  sure  ; "  and  forced  to  be  content  with  this  reply, 
Mr.  Wright  opened  the  piano,  and  placed  on  the  rack 
a  favorite  song,  which  Miss  Burton,  after  a  short  pre- 
lude, sang  simply,  but  sweetly  and  gracefully ;  soon 
after  which  the  gentlemeji  took  their  leave,  and  the 
listers  were  left  alone. 


METUBNINO  HOMR-  THB  BTRANGMR,  U 

•*  Well  ? "  8aid  Belle  inqniringly,  when  their  ttepi 
hftd  died  away  in  the  distance.  "  Was  Mr.  Adair  yani 
fellow-traveller  of  to-day  ? " 

"  Yes.    Rather  singular,  wasn't  it ! " 

*'  I  concluded  he  was,  from  what  he  said.  How  do 
yon  like  him  t  yon  seemed  to  be  conversing  qnite  ean»* 
estly." 

"  Very  well,  thus  far ;  one  can  hardly  judge  on  lo 
short  an  acquaintance.    He  is  fine-looking." 

"Yes,"  returned  Miss  Burton  briefly,  as  she  bent 
over  her  sleeping  sister  to  arouse  her;  and  after  • 
half  hour's  confidential  chat,  such  as  sisters  are  likely 
to  indulge  in  after  an  absence  of  one  of  them,  the  an- 
gels of  silence  and  slumber  hushed  the  hoiuebold  !• 

IVpOM. 


CHAPTER  V. 


A   LmUB   DIFFEEENCE — THE  TWILIGHT 


**  Full  BOon  doth  Borrow  make  her  ooyenmnt 

With  life  ;  and  leave  her  shadow  in  the  doOT} 
And  all  those  future  days  for  which  we  pant. 
Do  oome  in  mourning  for  the  days  of  jore.** 

OWBS 


'VENING  had  again  festooned  her  Bpangkd 
banner  across  the  vaulted  arches  of  heaven'i 
azure  dome,  dropped  her  misty  robe  of  silver 
iheen  and  twilight  purple  upon  the  weary  earth,  and 
with  her  fragrant,  sea-born  breath  cooled  the  throbbing 
iummer  air,  when  on  the  vine-wreathed  piazza  oi  their 
pretij  home.  Miss  Burton  and  her  sister  were  slowly 
pacing  brm-in-arm,  while  Berrie  gaily  related  some 
of  the  numerouR  adventures  with  which  all  school-girls* 
livee  are  varied^  &nd  which  to  most  persons  are  enter- 
taining and  amusing,  recalling  vividly  some  similar 
passages  in  their  own  experience. 

All  of  us  are  more  or  less  egotistical,  and  aught  that 
appeals  to  the  inner  life  of  the  self  we  adore,  be  it 
memory^  hope,  -or  desire,  is  received  with  favor,  aod 


TBW  TWILI&BT  WALK.  U 

Iuten«d  to  with  the  most  gratified  and  gratifying  in 
tereat 

Both  the  ^irls  were  in  evening  attire,  and  looking 
exceedingly  well,  as  the  light  that  streamed  through 
the  open  windows  of  the  brilliant  parlors  testified,  at 
they  in  their  restlesB  pacings  frequently  passed  athwart 
its  gleam. 

Miss  Burton  in  a  gauzy  black  grenadine,  relieved 
by  her  favorite  scarlet  ribbons,  and  her  sister  in  a  flow- 
ing dress  of  the  palest  pink  barege^  the  volnminonf 
flounces  sweeping  the  floor,  and  with  low  corsage  and 
sleeves  that  barely  reached  her  rounded  elbow,  while 
the  gleaming  coils  of  a  heavy  gold  chain — which,  with 
the  tiny  watch  in  her  belt,  had  been  that  morning  given 
her  by  her  father — encircled  the  slender,  dusky  neck, 
and  her  lovely  hair,  in  its  most  elaborate  arrangement, 
floated  over  her  polished  shoulders,  or 

"  — rested  redundant  abore 
Her  aiiy  pure  forehead  and  throal** 

Innocent,  joyous  life  sparkled  from  every  feature  of 
the  lovely  face;  happy  trust,  pleasant  anticipations, 
and  care-free  enjoyment  filled  the  heart  which  had  aa 
yet  never  been  chilled  by  treachery  or  unkindnesa, 
and  knew  nothing  of  disappointment  or  grief,  save  by 
their  names  alone. 

It  i«  said 

"  The  bcantifal  are  never  deaolate, 
For  tome  one  alwajs  loves  them  j '' 

and  whether  at  school  or  home,  snrroxmded  bj  £r  «iida 


6f  TEJS  TWILIGHT   WAIK 

who  knew  her  well,  or  by  ihose  she  could  scarcelj  claim 
as  acquaintances,  never  jet  had  she  experienced  aiight 
but  kindness  and  admiration,  e.er  had  arms  r.i  Ioti 
and  tenderness  encircled  her,  and  care  for  her  bappi* 
nesSj  tenderest  regard  for  her  welfare,  and  manj 
prayers  for  her  future  good,  rested  like  a  halo  of 
beauty  above  her  flower-strewn  pathway.  Childhood, 
youth,  and  girlhood,  had  been  singularly  free  from 
sorrow,  or  days  of  darkness  and  gloom ;  but  she  now 
stood  on  the  threshold  of  a  new  life,  her  womcm^s  life ; 
her  feet  were  just  about  to  enter  new  and  broader 
paths,  in  which  it  were  impossible  that  no  obstructiona 
should  arise,  no  rain  should  fall,  no  pangs  of  poignant 
grief  should  pierce  tlie  heart  so  joyous  and  intact  M 
yet. 

"  Sorrow  comes  to  all  I 
Oar  life  is  checked  with  Bhadowa  manifold ; 
But  woman  hath  this  more — she  may  not  call 
Her  sorrow  by  its  name." 

And  she  who  in  her  youth  escapes  the  heavy  hand 
of  grief,  must  perforce  feel  it  laid  with  crushing  pres- 
sure upon  her  after  life,  bowing  her  head  with  an- 
guish, filling  her  saddened  eyes  with  bitter,  scalding 
tears,  and  sweeping  the  teusioned  strings  of  her  quiv- 
ering heart,  until  they  threaten  to  break  beneath  the 
heavy,  torturing  touch. 

But  for  this  fair  gin  life  hath  as  yet  no  serioasneas, 
and  only  spreads  before  her  its  simny  walks,  its 
lovely,  joyous  gala-days,  and  the  beauty  and  blush 
of  the  fairest,  sweetest  flowers  with  which  ita  lap  !• 
Ailed. 


TEE  TWILIGffr  WALK.  %% 

**  How  well  yoQ  are  looking  to-night,  Berrie,"  laid 
ber  Bieter  laughingly,  as  in  passing  the  window  she 
chanced  to  glance  at  the  sparkling  oval  face  at  hei 
lide,  just  as  the  brilliant  light  from  within  touched 
with  wondrous  beauty  the  floating  hair  and  delicate 
olive  features.  "  I  can  hardly  believe  you  are  the 
game  girl  that  sat  in  the  parlor  there  last  evening  con 
versing  so  demurely  with  Eugene  Adair." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  not,"  laughed  Berrie.  "  Who  know« 
but  some  fairy  came  along  in  the  night  and  metamor- 
phosed me  into  some  one  else  ? " 

"  I  do,"  said  Belle.  "  I  am  sure  you  are  my  sister 
Berrie,  although  you  are  so  wonderfully  improved. 
But  I  am  afraid  there  will  be  no  one  here  to  admire 
you  to-night  but  myself.  People  always  come  when 
one  cares  least  about  seeing  them ;  it  would  not  have 
broken  my  heart  if  the  gentlemen  had  remained  away 
last  evening,  when  you  had  just  arrived." 

"  And  now  that  you  have  become  a  little  weary  of 
my  society,  you  are  ready  to  see  some  one  else  1  Ii 
that  it  ?  "  laughed  Berrie. 

"  You  know  better,  Berrie  I  I  thought  Jennie  War- 
dell  would  have  been  up  to-night,  she  is  so  anxious  to 
•ee  you." 

"  Time  enough  yet  1  But  look  1 "  exclaimed  Berrie, 
••isn^t  there  some  one  at  the  gate?"  and  after  a 
moment,  as  two  figures  came  up  the  shaded  walk,  she 
added,  under  her  breath :  "  Mr.  Wright  and  Mr.  Adair, 
Belle,  are  they  not?  Frequent  visitors,  truly  1  I 
think  there  ri^ast  be  an  attraction  here ;  eh.  Belle  ?  * 
and  the  laugU.  d  softly.    "  Which  one  may  /have  I " 


li  TEE  TWILIGHT  WAUL 

And  Belle  had  Dnlj  time  to  mnrmu.,  a  littl©  oc«i 
foBedly,  "  Which  you  please,  Berrie,"  when  the  gentl*> 
men  came  up  the  steps. 

"  Good  evening,  ladies  1  May  we  be  permitted  to 
join  your  promenade  ? "  said  Mr.  Wright  gaily,  whilt 
Mr.  Adair  silently  bowed  his  greetings. 

"  I  think  we  will  go  in,  instead,"  replied  Miss  Bcu^ 
ton.  "  I  believe  we  are  tired  of  walking,  are  we  not^ 
Berrie  I  And  the  air  is  becoming  rather  chill."  And 
Belle  leading  the  way,  they  entered  the  pleasant  par- 
lor, which  evidenced  Berrie's  presence  in  the  profusion 
and  careful  arrangement  of  flowers,  which  graced 
tables,  mantel,  and  piano,  showing  in  their  skilful 
grouping,  not  only  the  taste,  but  the  love  of  the  gath- 
erer for  the  frail  and  fragrant  beauties. 

"  By  George  1 "  thought  Mr.  Wright,  as  Berrie  sat 
down  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  chandelier.  *'  Miss  Ber- 
rie has  improved  wonderfully  since  she  sat  in  the  same 
place  twenty-four  hours  ago.  She  bears  off  the  palm 
of  beauty  to-night,  truly,  although  Miss  Burton  is 
looking  unusually  well.  What  magnificent  hair! 
What  plump,  round  shoulders  1  What  a  pretty  hand 
and  arm,  and  how  exceedingly  becoming  her  dress! 
Egad  1  she  is  lovely,  that's  a  fact  1  Who  would  think 
dress  could  make  such  a  difference  ? "  and  Lis  manner 
assumed  a  shade  more  of  respect  fcr,  and  flatteiing 
deference  to,  the  girl  whom  the  arts  of  the  toilet  bad 
BO  greatly  improved 

As  to  Eagene  Adair,  his  manner,  if  in  any  way 
altered,  seemed  a  little  more  reserved  and  distant,  • 
trifle  less  winning  and  fascinating  than  it  had  been  ob 


TEE  TWILIGHT   WALK.  M 

the  prcvioue  evening.  Ho  did  not  choose  aift  friendi 
for  their  beauty  or  elegance  of  person,  and  thoagh  hia 
artist  eye  ever  dwelt  with  pleasure  on  that  master- 
piece of  a  Divine  Sculptor,  a  perfectly  beautiful 
woman,  mere  surface  loveliness  had  no  power  to  win 
from  hira  either  respect  or  regard  for  its  possessor. 
He  had  learned  by  bitter  experience  that  a  lovely  face 
may  hide  depths  of  deceit,  vanity,  and  untruth  below, 
may  be  but  a  beautiful  mask  to  conceal  corruption  and 
heartless  cruelty  beneath. 

"We  received  tickets  to-day  for  the  excursion  of 
"which  Jennie  Wardell  spoke  a  few  evenings  since," 
remarked  Miss  Burton  in  a  pause  of  the  conversation. 
"  You  were  also  favored,  I  presume  ? " 

"  Yes.  That,  in  fact,  was  our  object  in  coming  up 
to-night — to  ask  that  we  may  have  the  pleasure  of  car- 
rying your  shawls,  holding  your  parasols,  and  taking 
care  of  you  generally.  Wasn't  it,  Adair  ? "  said  Mr. 
Wright,  laughingly. 

"I  believe  your  statement  is  correct,"  Mr.  Adair 
quietly  returned.  Then  turning  to  Berrie  with  hig 
winning  smile :  "  I  think  Mr.  Wright  has  appropritied 
your  sister  for  the  excursion,  in  anticipation  at  least 
Shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of  attending  you  ? " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Adair;  I  shall  be  pleased  to  a..- 
cept  your  escort  if  I  conclude  to  go,  which  I  have  somt 
ioubt  about  doing." 

"  Indeed  %  I  should  think  you  would  find  it  pleaa- 
ani,  you  have  been  absent  so  long." 

"  That  is  partly  the  reason  why  I  think  of  declining 
the  invitation  "  said  Berrie,  laughing  a  little.     "  Many 


YO  THE  TWILIOHT   WALK. 

of  «Qy  old  acquaintances  seem  almost  /ike  dtrangim, 
uid  I  have  no  pleasure  m  the  society  of  persoA  to 
whoDDi  I  feel  indifferent." 

At  this  rather  pointed  remark  Mr.  Adair  turned 
coldly  away,  and  Miss  Burton  interposed  with,  "  What 
ijB  that  Berrie  is  saying  ?  " 

"  That  she  thinks  she  will  not  join  the  excursion,  as 
she  does  not  like  strangers,"  returned  Adair  quickly. 

Berrie  saw  at  once  that  he  had  taken  her  random 
rem&rk  personally,  and  blushingly  attempted  to  explain 
or  apologize,  but,  of  course,  only  made  the  matter 
worse. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Adair,  you  thought  me  personal 
in  what  I  said.     I  assure  you — " 

"No  apology  is  necessary,"  he  coldly  interposed. 
"  You  are  not  to  be  blamed  for  disliking  those  whom 
you  do  not  know." 

"  I  was  merely  attempting  to  explain,  not  apologize," 
said  Berrie,  a  little  haughtily,  vexed  that  he  should 
lo  misconstrue  what  she  considered  an  innocent  re- 
mark, and  privately  determining  that  she  would  not 
accept  of  his  escort  after  that,  if  she  decided  to  go  at 
all. 

It  was  evident  a  quarrel,  or  misunderstanding,  to 
say  the  least,  was  imminent,  even  in  this  early  stage  oi 
their  acquaintance  ;  but  Miss  Burton,  who  did  not  ap- 
pear to  notice  any  unpleasantness,  again  came  to  th« 
resci'e. 

"  Not  going  ?  Of  course  you  are  I  She  has  been 
attempting  to  talk  like  that  all  day,  Mr.  Adair,  bat  I 
would  not  allow  it.     Strangers,  indeed  I   the  friendp 


THE  TWILIOIIT    TALK.  71 

■he  has  known  all  her  life  !     Berrie  alvf  Ays  '^aa  afraid 
of  strangers,"  she  coiicluded,  laughing. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  them,"  Berrie  returned,  still  a 
little  vexed  ;  "  but  I  confess  I  can  see  little  pleasnre  in 
•pending  a  whole  day  with  a  set  of  people  one  doei 
not  care  for.  If  I  go  it  is  only  on  your  account,  Belle 
and  you  must  not  urge  me  to  be  over-agreeable  to  any 
but  our  immediate  friends." 

"  Excepting  your  escorts,  of  course.  Or  may  we 
hope  that  you  class  them  also  with  your  immediate 
friends  ?  "  said  Mr.  Wri":ht,  suavelv. 

"  Making  the  exception  you  have  named,  of  course," 
returned  Berrie  politely,  but  utterly  ignoring  the  lat- 
ter clause  of  his  remark. 

Mr.  Wright  smiled  and  slightly  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders,  but  made  no  reply  ;  and  Mr.  Adair  was  just  then 
exceedingly  occupied  with  a  book  of  photographs  he 
had  taken  from  the  table. 

"  1  think  we  shall  go,"  remarked  Belle.  "  Berrie 
will  change  her  mind  before  then." 

"  My  mind  is  not  settled  as  yet,"  returned  Berrie, 
"  so  there  will  be  no  necessity  for  a  change.  1  merely 
intimated  that  it  was  doubtful  about  my  going,  rather 
than  decidedly  declared  that  I  should  not." 

"  By  the  way,  it  seems  it  is  postponed  until  Thurs- 
day. I  believe  Mr.  Malvern  said  it  was  to  come  off  on 
Tuesday,  did  he  not?"  inquired  Miss  Burton. 

"  Yes.  But  they  were  so  late  in  sending  out  theii 
invitations,  that  they  decided  to  defer  it  a  few  days— 
supposing  you  ladies  might  desire  to  make  some  prep 
arations,  I  presume,"  repUed  Mr.  Wright. 


If  Fffif  TWTLTOHT   WALE. 

Eugene  Adair  had  by  this  time  concluded  that  hi 
was  somewhat  hasty  and  unreasonable  in  appropriating 
Miss  Berrie's  careless  remark  to  himself,  and  thought 
It  time  to  make  some  amends.  Therefore,  looking  up 
with  a  pleasant  smile,  he  inquired,  "  Is  this  your 
brother,  may  I  ask.  Miss  Berrie  ? " 

She  glanced  at  the  designated  page  of  the  open 
album  he  held,  and  answered  briefly  in  the  aflSrm- 
ative. 

"  I  saw  him  with  you  at  Copcland's  on  the  evening 
preceding  your  return  home,  did  I  not  ? " 

"  Undoubtedly.  "We  were  both  there,"  she  returned 
somewhat  more  pleasantly,  her  vexation  having  in  a 
measure  passed  away,  and  recalling  with  a  heightened 
color  the  peculiar  glance  her  eyes  had  at  that  time 
carelessly  met. 

Mr.  Adair  noted  the  rising  flush,  and  with  a  little 
pang  thought  of  the  merry  fellow  who  had  seemed  so 
devoted  to  the  girl  on  the  evening  referred  to,  but  hii 
■^oice  did  not  betray  it  as  he  returned :  "  Do  you  know 
I  wan  certain  it  was  you  when  1  first  saw  you,  from 
your  resemblance  to  your  sisters,  whom  I  already  knew, 
although  I  was  aware  that  you  were  expected  home  on 
^hat  evening.     Your  brother  is  very  like  you." 

"  Yes  1 "  she  returned,  "  we  all  resemble  each  other, 
I  believe." 

"  Exceedingly  1 "  said  Mr.  Wright.  "  The  resem- 
blance is  very  striking ;  between  ycurself  and  Hattie 
it  i*  the  most  marked,  however." 

"  Oh,  where  is  my  little  friend,  to-night?"  inquired 
|£r.  Adair.    "In  bed,  I  auppose'/"  he  added.     "I 


TEB   rWILIGHT  WALE.  f% 

Ka^  not  had  a  down-right  quarrel  with  her  in  ioma 
time  ;  not  since  we  quarrelled  about  yon,  Migg  BerriOi 
I  believe." 

Berrie's  curiosity  was  excited  to  know  what  he  conld 
have  said  of  her  before  seeing  her,  but  she  would  not 
gratify  him  by  manifesting  it,  and  Belle  remarked, 
langhingly  :  "  If  you  are  in  a  particularly  belligerent 
mood,  this  evening,  Mr.  Adair,  perhaps  Berrie  might 
be  induced  to  quarrel  with  you." 

"  I  assure  you,  no  I "  returned  Berrie,  quickly. 

And  Mr.  Adair  said  gently,  "  We  have  no  cause  for 
quarrelling,  I  am  sure  1     Am  I  not  right  ? " 

"  Certainly  I     No  cause  nor  inclination,  1  presume." 

Berrie  was  becoming  haughty  again,  and  Mr.  Adair 
begged  for  music.  Mr.  Wright  was  positive  her  music 
must  be  unpacked  by  that  time,  and  trusted  she  waa 
recovered  from  the  fatigue  of  last  evening.  Belle 
BUggested  she  should  sing  the  piece  she  sang  last  at  ex- 
hibition, and  she  could  do  no  less,  she  felt,  than  to 
comply. 

Softly,  sweetly,  yet  clearly,  rang  out  the  exquisite 
air,  and  warm  and  sincere  were  tie  commendations 
she  received.  Then  one  piece  after  another  was  called 
for,  until  the  evening  was  far  spent ;  and  when  at  last 
they  arose  to  go,  and  Mr.  Adair  took  Berrie's  hand  in 
farewell,  he  said,  with  the  peculiar  grace  of  manner 
which  rendered  him  so  exceedingly  vJeasing :  "  I  have 
been  highly  e.itertained  this  evening.  Miss  Berrie,  and 
if  you  do  me  the  honor  to  accept  my  escort  f  oi  Thurs- 
day, I  aesure  you  1  shall  do  my  best  to  make  it  pleasant 
for  jon,  notwithstanding  I  am  a  stranger.^ 
4 


74  THE  TWILIGHT  WALK. 

Beirie's  lingering  vexation  vanished  beneath  the 
charm  of  his  words  and  manner,  and  notwithstanding 
a  short  time  previous  she  had  resolved  not  to  allow 
him  to  attend  her  upon  any  terms,  now  with  wonuin'i 
inconsistency  she  answered  sweetly :  "  I  do  not  doubt 
It,  assuredly,  Mr.  Adair ;  and  if  I  decide  to  go,  I  shall 
hi  happy  to  permit  you  to  '  carry  my  shawl,'  as  Mr, 
Wright  expresses  it.  We  shall  doubtless  see  you  again 
»re  that  ? "  she  concluded. 

"  Undoubtedly  I  "  he  returned.  "  I  wish  you  a  very 
good  night,"  and  Berrie,  bowing  in  reply,  turned  to  re 
ceive  Ae  adieus  Mr.  Wright  was  desirous  of  making. 

"  Really,  Berrie  1  I  was  seriously  afraid  you  and  our 
noble  Eugene  were  about  to  quarrel,  so  soon  I "  said 
Belle,  playfully,  when  they  were  at  last  gone. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  I  "  pouted  Berrie.  "  He  was  too 
provoking  and  unreasonable ! " 

"  My  dear  child,  did  you  ever  see  a  man  that  waa 
not?" 

"  Never  1 "  said  Berrie,  energetically.  "  But,  Belle," 
•he  added  after  a  moment,  "  what  did  he  and  Uattie 
quarrel  about  me  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  is  always  teasing  Hattie,  and  one  night  she 
aaked  him  if  he  knew  her  sister  Berrie ;  and  he  said 
he  had  not  the  honor,  and  wanted  to  know  what  sort 
of  a  berry  you  were,  strawberry,  blackberry,  or  holly- 
berry  ;  and  Hattie  was  indignant,  of  course,  as  she 
always  is  when  any  one  says  anythmg  about  you.  7 
told  him,"  continued  Belle  irtischievouply,  "that  yon 
were  rather  black,  and  that  hoUyberry  wouldn't  be  a 
bad  name  for  you  either;  and  T  might  have  adde4i 


TOE  TWILIOMT   WAUL  7| 

particiilarly  if  he  took  into  consideration  the  prickly 
leaves.  I  guess  he  found  you  rather  thorny  to-night, 
didn't  he,  Berrie  ?  " 

And  MJss  Burton  sat  down,  laughing,  as  Borrie^ 
pinching  her  arm,  exclaimed :  "  You  saucy  girl  I  I  am 
no  blacker  than  you  are,  you  know  I  Let  him  call  m« 
blackberry  if  he  dares  I  Ned  Lester  calls  me  straw- 
berry, and  teases  me  to  death  besides." 

Several  days  passed  on,  and  Wednesday  evening  ar- 
rived. Berrie  was  just  putting  on  her  hat,  preparatory 
to  a  short  walk,  and  absently  humming  a  favorite  air^ 
when  Hattie  entered  her  room,  saying,  "  Berrie,  Mr. 
Adair  is  down  stairs,  and  wants  to  see  yon,"  and  was 
rushing  out  of  the  room  again  when  Berrie  caught  her, 
and  exclaimed  hurriedly :  "  Stay,  Hattie  I  Did  he  ask 
for  me  particularly,  and  is  he  alone  % " 

"  Yes,  yes  1 "  returned  Hattie,  hastily ;  "  he  is  at  the 
door ;  he  would  not  come  in.  Let  me  go,  Berrie, 
Mamie  Waldron  is  waiting  for  me." 

"  "Well,  run  on,  and  tell  Mr.  Adair  I  w'U  be  down  in 
a  moment." 

Hattie  ran  out,  and  Berrie  turned  to  the  mirror  again, 
with  a  heightened  color  on  her  dusky  cheek,  and  a  lit- 
tle smile  of  pleasure  wreathing  the  rosy,  kissable 
mouth.  Giving  the  shining  ringlets  another  careful 
touch,  setting  her  coquettish  hat  a  little  more  jauntily 
above  the  droopuig  curls,  and  with  fingers  that  slightly 
trembled,  drawing  a  sprig  of  heliotrope  and  a  lovely 
carnation  pink  from  a  vase  on  hei  dressing  bureau,  she 
taa'/cned  them  in  the  bosom  of  her  soft  white  dress,  took 
her  gloves  in  her  hand,  and  with  one  more  glance  at 


ff  THB  TWILIGHT  WALE. 

the  mirror,  turned  to  the  door.  With  htr  hand  oa  thi 
knob,  she  paused  for  a  moiueut,  bent  her  head  as  if  in 
•pecalative  thought,  then  passed  slowly  from  the  room, 
tnd  down  the  stairs. 

Her  light  step  on  the  carpet  made  no  sound,  hef 
■imple  dress  of  soft,  white  muslin  gave  no  rustle,  aa 
she  crossed  the  hall  and  paused  in  the  open  doorway. 
Mr.  Adair  was  slowly  pacing  to  and  fro  on  the  piazz{^ 
Ewaiting  her  coming,  and  at  the  moment  was  turned 
away  from  her,  while  with  head  bent  low,  and  hand 
Ebsently  stroking  his  mustache,  he  seemed  in  a  reverie 
•carcely  pleasant,  to  judge  from  the  close-set  lips  and 
the  look  of  pain  his  handsome  features  wore.  But 
when,  turning  at  last  in  his  promenade,  his  eyes  en- 
countered the  pretty  figure  in  the  open  door,  standing 
in  demure  silence,  drawing  on  leisurely  her  delicate, 
neatly  fitting  glove,  the  shade  quickly  vanished  from 
his  haughty  face,  and  the  rigid  lips  relaxed  into  hig 
own  fascinating  smile,  as  he  met  the  merry  glance  of 
the  large,  dark  eyes  bent  directly  upon  him. 

*'  Good  evening,  Mr.  Adair  1  '  A  penny  for  your 
thoflghts  I'"  she  laughed,  as  she  placed  the  yet  ungloved 
LiJid  in  the  one  eagerly  extended  in  greeting. 

"  You  bid  too  low  1 "  he  returned  softly,  still  absently 
iretaining  the  hand  he  had  taken.  "  The  object  of  them 
deserves  a  higher  price." 

"  Indeed  ?  You  excite  my  curiopHy  i  Is  it  permit- 
ted to  advance  on  the  bid? "  she  asked,  still  smiling, 
tnd  withdrawing  the  hand  the  gentleman  seemed  to 
have  no  idea  of  relinquishing  voluntarily. 

^  Pardon  me  1 "  be  murmured,  deprecat'mglyi  at  hm 


THB  TWILIGHT  WALK. 

•ct  arrested  bis  attention.  "  I  fear  no  price  jou  could 
offer  would  reach  the  object's  deserts." 

"  Really !  She  must  occupy  an  exalted  place  in  your 
mind,"  she  returned,  a  little  piqued,  and  with  girlLah 
audacity  assuming  the  object  of  so  profound  a  reverj 
to  be  that  instigator  of  all  witchery  and  mischief,  a 
woman. 

He  smiled  amusedly,  and  said  softly,  with  a  meaning 
glance  in  the  eyes  uplifted  to  his  face :  "  She  doea,  in- 
deed, I  assure  you." 

Berrie  dropped  her  eyes  without  replying,  slightly 
confused  by  his  look  and  manner,  and  he  continued, 
"  Some  day.  Miss  Berrie,  I  may  tell  you  of  her,  if  you 
will  permit,"  adding,  before  she  could  have  replied  had 
«he  wished,  "  were  you  going  out  ? " 

"  Only  to  the  post-office,"  she  returned,  "  but  I  am 
\n  no  haste ;  will  you  come  in  ? " 

"Thank  you, no  1  if  you  will  allow  me  to  accompany 
yon  in  your  walk  a  short  distance." 

"  Certainly  1 "  she  replied  briefly,  and  they  passed 
down  the  steps. 

**  1  came  up  more  particularly,  this  evening,  to  know 
if  I  might  do  myself  the  honor  to  call  for  yon  to-mor- 
row morning  ?  "  he  resumed  at  once. 

"  Thanks  1  I  believe  you  may.  I  have  about  decid- 
ed to  go— indeed,  Belle  will  not  allow  me  to  make  any 
other  decision ;  and  my  shawl  and  parasol  will  be 
ready  for  yon  at  the  appointed  time,  if  I  can  Bucc«»d 
in  getting  up  sufficiently  eaily." 

He  bowed  and  remarked  :  ''  I  hope  we  may  have  a 
pleasant  day.  Did  yon  notice  die  sunset  this  evenin|^  f " 


tt  rHB  TWILIOHT  WALK. 

**  I  did,  indeed  !     Was  it  not  ingnificeut  1 " 

"  Exceedingly  !  But  if  you  adraire  such  thicgs,  yo« 
ihoald  Bee  an  ocean  sunset ;  and  sunrise  also  for  thai 
matter." 

"  Which  I  desire  to  do,  more  than  I  can  tell  you  I  * 
■he  returned  waimly. 

"  And  hope  to,  some  time  ?  " 

"  And  hope  to,  some  time,  yes  I  Hope  to,  whether 
there  is  any  prospect  of  my  doing  so  or  not,"  she 
Unghed. 

"  I  flee  no  reason  why  yon  should  not." 

"  Oh,  mamma  would  never  consent.  She  has  a  great 
horror  of  the  sea,  and  would  not  have  a  happy  moment 
while  I  was  absent,  were  I  to  cross  the  ocean.  I  shall 
never  visit  any  land  but  my  own  while  she  lives,  and  I 
hope  that  may  be  as  long  as  I  do,"  she  concluded,  ear- 
nestly. 

"  Notwithstanding  your  desire  to  witness  a  sunset  at 
sea?" 

"  Notwithstanding  that,  yes  I  I  could  not  live,  it 
■eems  to  me,  without  my  mother," 

"  So  I  would  have  said  at  your  age,"  he  returned 
sadly.  "  But '  the  years  are  sad  and  many '  since  she 
went  to  sleep,  and  I  am  living  yet.  It  is  not  so  easy  to 
die  as  we  sometimes  think  in  youth,  nor  will  death 
come  at  our  bidding,  else  I  s'iiould  not  be  here,  Misi 
Berrie." 

She  looked  up,  touched  at  his  sad  quotation  from  her 
favorite  "  Wanderer,"  and  the  exceeding  bitterness  of 
the  tone  in  which  he  cl  jsed  the  sentence,  and  said  softly, 
"  It  life  so  dreary  to  yo7  as  that,  Mr.  Adair  I    It  doei 


THB   TWILiam    WALK.  7f 

not  seem  to  me  one  could  ever  wish  to  lea  76  thia  beaa- 
tiful  world." 

"There  is  another  beyond,  far  more  bcantiful,  mj 
shild ;  a  glorious  temple,  to  wliich  this  world  is  but  « 
•tepping-stone ;  and  life  to  me  ^«  indeed  very  dreary 
at  times ;  more  so  than  jou,  in  your  innocence  and 
care-free  happiness,  can  imagine."  And  he  looked  down 
at  her  with  eyes  darkened  with  a  nameless  pain,  with 
every  feature  eloquent  of  a  strong  and  abiding  grief. 

Every  line  of  the  girl's  fair  face  expressed  the  sym- 
pathy her  lips  dared  not  utter,  and  he  added  with 
emotion :  "  God  grant,  dear  child,  you  may  never  expe- 
rience the  unutterable  misery  of  having  your  only  con- 
Bcious  desire  one  for  *  oblivion  of  time,  escape  from 
yourself ;  *  of  feeling  that  the  rest  of  the  grave  would 
be  sweeter  than  slumber  to  a  weary  child,  and  knowing 
that  you  must  still  live  on,  and 

*  Endure  whatever  shall  come  ;  without  a  sigh 
Endure ;  and  drink,  even  to  the  very  dregs. 
The  bitterest  cup  that  Time  could  measure  out* " 

There  was  a  pause  of  some  seconds,  then  Berrie  said 
•qftly ;  "  I  can  think  of  nothing  that  would  be  more 
bitter  than  a  long  separation  from  one  who  is  dear  to 
OB ;  of  knowing  that  miles  of  ocean  wastes  divide  U8 
from  each  other,  and  that  years  must  yet  elapse  before 
we  could  meet.  Of  course  I  know  nothing  about  this 
or  any  other  grief,  as  yet,  by  experience,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  must  be  very  hard—almost,  if  not  quite,  ai 
bitter  as  death." 

**  Not  quite,  oh  no  t  for  *  vrhile  there  if  lite  there  ia 


§0  nW  TWILTGHt  WAUL 

hope/  «nd  so  long  as  we  know  that  the  world  cont*mt 
onr  loved  ones,  we  still  have  hope  that  some  happj 
chance,  or  Providence'*'^ — he  corrected  reverently, 
"may  give  them  bark  tons;  lut  when  Death  takei 
them,  we  know  we  must  never  hope  for  reimion  until 
wo  meet  where  there  are  no  partings  or  sorrows,  no  bit 
temess  of  desolation,  no  pangs  of  hope  deferred." 

"  Life  is  so  short,  it  seems  to  me  a  sad  thing  to  oe 
separated  for  years  from  one  we  love,"  coming  back 
to  her  previous  stand-point,  and  able  to  compute  a  grief 
like  that,  better  than  one  of  which,  as  she  had  siid,  she 
as  yet  knew  nothing  by  sad  experience — death's  griev- 
ous sorrow,  and  the  deep  desolation  of  heart  such  be 
reavement  leaves  behind. 

Or  did  some  premonitions  of  her  coming  fate  influ- 
ence her  thoughts  and  dictate  her  words?  Some 
fore-shadowing  of  the  days  to  come,  when  her  heart 
should  sink  beneath  the  despair  of  long  and  weary 
separation  from  those  best  loved,  and  faint  from  the 
dreary  sickness  of  hope  deferred.  Do  not  such  chill 
presentiments  frequently  strike  our  hearts,  even  in  om 
gayest  and  most  care-free  moments  ?  Will  not  a  caa 
ual  word  from  one  who  has  no  seeming  influence  ovei 
our  present  or  future  life,  awake  some  faint  forebod 
ings  of  what  the  coming  years  may  bring,  some  dreary 
fears  that  life  may  not  be  always  aa  b  iglit  and  joyou 
«s  then) 

"  The  whole  of  life  is  sad,  it  seems  to  me,"  he  re^ 
turned,  in  answer  to  her  last  remark.  "  I  look  some- 
times at  those  who  seem  to  tind  no  thorns  beneath  the 
rotes  of  gayety  and  tiappmess  they  so  eagerly  gather, 


THE   CWILIOET   WAUL  81 

and  wonder  if  the  same  Hand  created  us  &U?  II I  nevei 
did  or  can  look  ut  life  through  such  rosy  lenses  ?  if  I 
ever  really  have  known  what  joy  and  happiness  meaUf 
save  in  the  abstract  ?  But  I  am  saddening  you  by  thii 
iretrospect  of  my  own  saddened  life,  and  the  nettles  o< 
Borrow  wih  come  full  soon  to  you,  pretty  child,  if  only 
bloesoms  of  joy  are  pressed  into  your  hands  while  those 
you  luve  have  the  power  to  give  them  to  you.  Forgive 
me  for  allowing  the  conversation  to  take  such  a  turn, 
and  farewell  until  the  morning."  And  bending  low 
over  her  hand,  he  passed  on  up  the  street,  while  she 
entered  the  office  for  the  evening  mail. 

Many  times  during  the  remainder  of  the  evening 
did  she  review  the  conversation  of  a  few  hours  previougj 
wondering  with  a  sympathetic  curiosity  what  form  of 
grievous,  desolating  sorrow  could  have  swept  over  the 
life  of  one  so  seemingly  worthy  of  fortune's  best  and 
rarest  gifts ;  so  evidently  calerlated  by  the  graces 
which  nature  and  culture  had  bestowed  upon  him,  to 
win  for  himself  any  meed  of  love  or  honor  or  fame 
that  the  most  restless  or  ambitious  heart  could  deaire. 
Deciding  at  last,  as 

''  Sleep  approaching  soft 
Wrapped  all  her  weary  faonltlM 
In  sweet  repose,** 

that  at  least  no  woman's  treachery  or  coldness  conid 
have  dealt  the  blow  which  crushed  to  the  dust  all  the 
hopes  of  earthly  happiness  of  one  of  whose  ador&tion 
any  woman  might  be  proud,  and  that  only  death's  hor- 
rible blank  could  thns  have  saddened  the  life,  a  glimpsa 


at  THB  TWILIGHT  WALM. 

©£  whoee  gloomy  receBscs  had  that  night  been  vondi 
lafed  to  her,  for  a  few  speeding  inoments  of  confidence. 

"  Pity  Li  akin  to  love ;  "  and  with  the  profound  pit) 
which  filled  her  heart  for  the  lonely  man,  crept  in  a 
longing  desire  for  the  power  to  Boothe  the  grief  which 
to  her  was  aameless,  to  erase  from  the  stricken  heart 
the  lines  that  stem,  unrelenting  sorrow  had  traced 
thereon,  and  teach  him  to  leave  in  the  vault  of  forget- 
fulness  the  darkness  of  the  past,  and  look  forward  with 
hope  and  trust  to  a  future  which  might  gleam  with 
marvellous  peace  and  happiness  for  him  whose  feet  now 
dragged  so  wearily  through  the  "  slough  of  despond," 
and  the  mire  of  intense,  heart-breaking  despair. 

Thoughts  which  were  undefined  and  dim  were  they, 
as  they  floated  through  her  mind,  desires  unformed  and 
pictures  as  "  vague  as  a  virgin's  regret,"  and  which 
would  have  startled  the  modest  girl  to  have  seen  thus 
distinctly  linmed, — would  have  sent  the  conscious 
blood  in  crimson  waves  to  her  girlish  cheek,  and  drooped 
with  tender  shame  the  large,  dark,  lustrous  eyes. 

But  conscious  only  of  the  pity  that  filled  her  soul, 
onthinking  of  the  passion  which  is  so  near  of  kin,  and 
half  murmuring  to  herself  "  Comfort  him,  comfort 
him,  all  things  good,"  she  drifted  slowly  off  to  the  mazy 
land  of  dreams,  to  which  sweet  slumber  is  bnt  the  thin- 
ing,  gulden  portaL 


CHAPTER  VL 

THE  EX0UB8I0V. 

**  Kofe  many  friends  mj  life  has  made, 
Few  hare  I  loved,  and  few  are  thej 
Who  in  my  hand  their  hearts  have  laid." 

J.  O.  Bohuam, 

IROPITIOUS  as  had  seemed  the  royal  sunset  oi 
the  preceding  evening,  the  morning  dawned  grey 
and  cloudy,  ushered  in  with  one  of  those  pro- 
voking fogs  which  prevent  one  from  determining,  with 
any  d^ree  of  certainty,  whether  it  is  a  foreshadowing 
of  rain,  or  of  a  burning,  sunlit  day. 

But  youth  is  hopeful,  and  ever  inclined  to  look  on 
the  brightest  side  of  a  picture ;  therefore  the  hour  ap- 
pointed for  the  meeting  found  a  group  of  both  sexed, 
gathered  on  one  of  the  wharves  in  the  lower  part  of  th« 
town,  awaiting  the  readiness  of  the  sloop  that  was  t© 
ftccommodati  them,  and  minister  to  jheir  day  of 
pleasure. 

"  Come,  Berrie  I  "  her  sister  had  said,  as  she  entered 
her  room  and  drew  up  the  shade  somewhat  early  that 
morniDg.    "  It  Ib  nearly  half -past  fleven,  and  quite  tiuM 


U  THE  EX0UB8I0N. 

you  were  out  of  bed,  if  you  intend  going  ai  the  ai 
•ion  to-day." 

«  Oh  dear  I  must  I  get  up  ?  I  don't  believe  I  will  go," 
fawned  Berrie,  half  settling  herself  for  another  nap. 

"  Nonsense  I  yes,  you  will  go  1  Come,  get  up  right 
away,  will  you  \  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  if  I  must.     Is  it  pleasant  ?  ** 

"  Not  very,  but  I  dare  say  it  will  clear  by  and  by. 
Come  I  breakfast  will  be  ready  by  eight  o'clock,  and 
you  have  no  time  to  spare.  We  don't  want  to  keep  the 
gentlemen  waiting." 

"  What  gentlemen  ? "  asked  Berrie,  still  half  asleep ; 
adding,  as  Belle  made  an  impatient  gesture,  and  f^s 
recalled  the  events  of  the  preceding  evening — ^^  0\ 
yes,  I  know  I  Well,  if  I  must,  I  rnvst^  I  suppose ;  but 
it  is  a  nuisance,  any  way  1 "  and  she  stepped  lazily  out 
of  bed,  and  prepared  very  deliberately  to  make  her 
morning  toilet. 

Belle  laughed  and  exclaimed  :  "Well,  Berrie,  if  you 
go  at  work  in  that  indolent  manner  to  dress,  I  fancy 
we  sliall  have  to  wait  breakfast  for  you  one  whiloi 
Come,  do  wake  up,  sleepy-head,  and  make  haste,"  and 
she  dipped  her  hand  in  a  bowl  of  water  that  stood  on 
the  marble  sink,  and  threw  it  mischievously  iii  her  ai»- 
ter'a  face. 

Berrie  gasped,  and  exclaimed  half -laughing :  "  Bella 
Burton,  if  you  don't  leave  the  room,  I  won't  dress  at 
aU—therel" 

«  Oh, yes,  I'll  go,"  laughed  Belle ;  "but  do  be  quick, 
Berrie  1 "  and  she  ran  hastily  downstairs  to  assist  in 
|>reparing  the  lunch  which  it  was  decided  they  ■hoald 


TES  BXCimBION  $| 

take,  lest  they  ahonld  not  reach  Newport  at  early  m 
they  had  anticipated. 

Berrie  carae  .risurely  into  the  breakfast-room,  ia 
her  pretty  cambric  dress,  when  the  rest  of  the  family 
had  nearly  finished  the  morning  meal,  and  as  leisurely 
proceeded  to  partake  of  the  repast  before  her.  There 
fore  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  gentlemen  made  thei 
appearance  somewhat  before  she  was  prepared  to  re 
cei^e  them.  They  were  standing  in  the  hall  with 
Belle,  when  she  came  out  of  the  breakfast-room  a  few 
minutes  after  their  arrival. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  Berrie,"  said  Mr.  Adair,  tak- 
ing her  hand  in  greeting ;  "  I  trust  you  rested  well  the 
last  night?" 

"  Better  last  night,  thank  you,  than  this  morning,'* 
wvis  the  half -laughing  response.  "  I  believe  I  am  not 
fairly  awake  as  yet." 

"  You  do  look  rather  sleepy,  that's  a  fact  1 "  remarked 
Mr.  "Wright.  "  But  I  presume  we  shall  find  you  suffi- 
ciently wide  awake  by  and  by." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say ;  I  usually  am  by  noon.  But,  dear 
me  I  it  is  going  to  rain,  isn't  it  ?  It  looks  enough  like 
it,  I  am  sure." 

"  Not  to-day,  I  think ;  the  fog  will  lift  by  and  by, 
and  give  us  a  peep  of  the  sun's  shining  face.  Don't 
be  alarmed  about  the  rain.  Miss  Berrie ;  we  have  Ixv 
ipoken  fair  weather  to-day.  Have  we  not,  Adair!" 
aaid  Mr.  Wright,  gaily. 

**  Do  not  appeal  to  me,"  returned  the  other,  smiling; 
*  I  never  dispute  a  gentleman's  word.    But  I  really  df 


§f  TEE  EXCURSION 

not  think  you  need  have  any  fears,  ladies ;  ftie  wind 
seems  to  be  favorable  for  a  fair  day." 

"  It  would  be  delightful  to  have  a  pouring  rain  all 
day  I "  remarked  Berrie,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders, 
as  she  ran  upstairs  to  pat  on  her  hat,  and  bring  th« 
thawl  and  parasol  which  she  had  promised  her  escort 
thould  be  in  readiness. 

Therefore  notwithstanding  the  prospect  of  a  stormy 
day,  our  quartette  joined  the  group  gathered  on  the 
wharf,  just  as  the  sloop  was  announced  to  be  ready  for 
occupation ;  and  soon  after,  when  all  were  comfortably 
seated  on  board,  the  moorings  were  loosed,  anchor 
weighed,  and  the  little  vessel  glided  slowly  away  from 
the  wharf,  firing  a  salute  from  her  one  little  cannon, 
which  for  the  moment  half  deafened  the  party  on 
board. 

The  time  passed  on  quickly  and  pleasantly  for  an 
hour  or  two,  and  then,  as  the  principal  buildings  in 
the  town  still  arose  conspicuously  before  their  eyes, 
one  and  another  began  to  murmur  at  their  slow  pro- 
gress, and  wonder  why  they  had  not  made  better  time. 
But  the  murmurs  passed,  and  merriment  was  in  the 
ascendancy  again,  when  Berrie,  looking  at  her  watch, 
exclaimed :  "  Twelve  o'clock,  and  Biistol  still  in  sight. 
We  shall  take  breakf  wt,  instead  of  dinner,  at  Newport 
at  this  rate  1 "  and  a  gentleman  was  sent  forward  to 
know  what  was  the  cause  of  their  want  of  speed. 

"  No  wind,  and  tide  against  us,  sir  I  "  was  the  cheer- 
ing reBponse;  which  was  duly  communicated  to  the 
rest  of  the  party,  and  a  consultation  held. 

JSre  thia,  the  sun  had  dispelled  the  "  mists  of  tha 


TEB  SX0VR8I0N,  §7 

morning,*'  and  the  day  was  as  fair  and  brigut  at  on« 
could  desire.  Tlic  waves  danced  and  sparkled  in  th« 
rays  of  the  ardent  day-god,  but  were  altogether  too 
tiny  to  suit  the  pleasure  of  the  gay  party  on  the  awning 
covered  deck  of  the  little  yacht ;  and  the  spires  and 
tasteful  dwellings  nestled  lovingly  among  the  fine  old 
trees  of  the  handsome  town,  formed  a  pretty  and 
pleasing  picture,  seen  across  the  plain  of  dimpling 
blue  water,  stretched  between.  A  picture  they  would 
fain,  at  the  moment,  have  viewed  from  a  greater  dift- 
tance. 

However,  they  were  bound  for  a  day's  sport,  and  aa 
the  weather  had  favored  them  so  propitiously,  they 
could  not  think  of  turning  their  faces  homeward,  but 
resolved,  if  they  were  to  pass  the  greater  portion  of  the 
day  in  their  circumscribed  quarters  on  the  deck  of  th« 
yacht,  instead  of  among  the  romantic  nooks  of  lovelj 
old  Newport,  they  would  at  least  endeavor  to  make 
the  best  of  it,  and  like  the  "  Duke-de  Lou  vols."  enjoy 
what  they  could. 

Fortunately,  the  greater  portion  of  the  party  had 
come  provided  with  refreshments,  anticipating  that  the 
bracing  air  of  the  sea  miglit  supply  an  appetite  for 
the  delicacies  they  held  in  store ;  and  a  gayer  party 
never  sat  down  to  an  informal  dinner  like  the  one  set 
out  on  the  deck  of  that  little  barque,  than  were  they. 
Laughter,  wit,  and  vivacious  repartee  seasoned  the 
sandwiches,  cakes,  pastry,  fruit,  and  so  forth,  with 
which  their  hastily  improvised  table  was  loaded,  anc 
gay  good-humor  rendered  the  otherwise  U.  dious  houni 
not  only  endorable,  but  to  most  of  them  ezceedingl;^ 


gg  I'EB  EXCUmiOK 

pleftsant.  Still,  even  the  most  extravagant  spirita  biuI 
perforce  lull  at  last,  and  when  two  o'clock  came,  imp»- 
tience  and  restlessness  took  the  place  of  the  former 
honrs'  gay  hilarity  and  cheer. 

"  Hov?-  provoking  it  is !  "  "  Just  our  luck  1 "  "  Deajr 
me,  I  wish  I  had  stayed  at  home  1 "  "I  wonder  if  wt 
are  never  going  to  have  any  wind  I  "  "  We'J^  this  if 
tedious  enough  I "  were  some  of  the  expressions  which 
fell  impatiently  from  nearly  every  lip.  The  least 
breath  of  air  was  joyfully  hailed  as  the  first  instal- 
ment of  the  breeze  so  longed  for,  but  when  it  failed  to 
be  followed  by  fuller  puffs  of  wind  as  anticipated,  dis- 
appointment was  both  felt  and  freely  expressed,  to  the 
vexation  and  discomfort  of  those  easy-going  souls  who 
always  make  the  best  of  everything,  and  are  deter^ 
mined  to  enjoy  themselves  let  what  will  come. 

At  last  the  captain  said  decidedly  that  it  was  useless 
to  think  of  reaching  Newport  before  night,  and  if  they 
were  still  inclined  to  finish  the  day,  the  best  thing  they 
could  do  was  to  tack  and  run  up  to  Rocky  Point  in- 
stead, known  to  all  of  the  company  aa  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  and  delightful  of  summer  resorts.  There- 
fore his  very  sensible  advice  was  acted  upon,  and  the 
little  vessel  soon  headed  in  an  opposite  direction  to 
which  it  had  thus  far  pointed.  But  as  such  thing« 
usually  go  by  contraries,  scarcely  had  their  minds  b©« 
come  settled  upon  that,  when  a  strong,  fresh  breeze 
sprang  up,  and  after  a  short  but  eager  consultation, 
the  sloop  was  again  put  about,  and  Newport  was  once 
more  the  goal  of  their  hopes.  Still,  they  were  Btrng- 
gling  against  head  winds,  and  their  progress  in  beat* 


THE  EIUXTBBIOW.  S9 

lug  WM  §0  exceedingly  slow,  that  the  project  wm  «t 
last  abandoned  entirely,  as  wholly  impracticable,  an^ 
again  the  fickle  barque  was  headed  for  Rocky  Point. 

About  four  o'clock  p.  m.,  after  having  passed  nearlj^ 
•even  hours  on  the  deck  of  the  little  yacht,  they  stood 
once  more  on  terra-f/rma^  thoroughly  wearied,  for  the 
time,  of  the  coquettish,  inconstant  sea. 

As  to  Berrie,  the  hours  had  passed  much  more 
pleasantly  than  she  would  have  believed  possible. 
Eugene  Adair  exerted  all  his  powers  of  fascination — • 
and  they  were  many  and  rare — to  please  and  amuM 
her;  their  two  companions  were  in  their  gayest  and 
most  entertaining  moods,  other  and  mutual  friends 
gathered  around  them,  and  no  group  in  the  party  was 
a  merrier  one  than  that  of  which  Berrie  was  the  at- 
tractive centre. 

Mr.  Adair  had  thrown  off  the  shade  of  sadness 
which  seemed  to  have  settled  over  him  on  the  preced- 
ing evening,  and  Berrie  oft,f*n  gazed  at  him,  wonder- 
ing if  that  gay,  fascinating,  apparently  care -free  gen- 
tleman, was  the  same  that  had  looked  down  at  her  the 
previous  night,  with  a  face  shadowed  by  a  heavy  grief, 
and  whose  lips  had  uttered  words  and  tones  of  snch 
txquisite,  heart-weary  sadness. 

How  little  the  casual  observer  can  guess  of  what 
Bleeps  beneath  the  smiling  surface  1  How  many  wear 
a  mask  of  gayely  *o  hide  a  tumult  of  anguish  or  a 
yawning  chasm  of  desolation,  and  smile  with  a  sweet- 
ness almost  divi^o,  tv^hile  the  heart  within  is  weeping 
tears  of  blood  i 

Kot  in  ^ci^nes  of  pleasure  can  one  judge  of  a  mtn'i 


it  THE  EXOVnSIOlf. 

toner  life; — his  motives,  aspirations  desires,  or  grielt 
Down  deep  in  his  heart  they  lie,  hidden  from  mortal 
right,  shielded  from  mortal  ken,  shrinking  with  morbid 
•ensitivenese  from  mortal  touch,  until  the  gentle  hand  ol 
lovcorgympathy  shall  rend  the  veil  that  covers  them,  and 
draw  them  forth,  to  assist,  heal,  or  sympathize  with,  m 
their  deserts  shall  demand. 

But  if  Berrie  had  not  forgotten  the  moment  of  con- 
fidence the  previous  evening,  neither  had  Eugene 
Adair,  as  the  smile  with  which  he  answered  the  earnest, 
but  somewhat  perplexed  gaze,  which  more  than  once 
he  had  caught  fixed  on  his  face,  had  testified.  A  smile 
that  had  brought  a  provoking  flush  to  the  fair  girl'i 
cheek,  and  quickened  the  pulsations  of  the  heart  that 
beat  80  modestly  within  her  gentle  breast.  A  smile 
which  had  in  it  such  a  blending  of  sweetness  and  sad- 
ness, of  secret  sympatliy  and  fond  regard,  that  the 
tender,  pitying  heart  of  the  girl  could  not  fail  to  re- 
spond to  it,  and  '♦  translate  itself  in  silence  on  her 
cheek." 

Who  has  not  felt,  with  indescribable  vexation,  that  niflh 
of  color  from  throbbing  heart  to  burning  cheek  1  That 
fluflhing  crimson  one  would  fain  control,  but  which, 
bursting  all  barriers  of  restraint,  leaps  to  the  outer  buiv 
face  of  the  being,  covering  brow  and  cheek  and  throat 
^th  the  tell-tale  color ;  and  a  consciousneso  of  which 
but  enhances  and  increases. 

Blushing  easily  at  all  timea,  Berrie  could  hardly  do 
MM  under  such  a  glance ;  and  bit  her  I'ps  with  vexation 
thai  she  oonld  not  meet  that  *)eculiar,  conscious  smile,, 
wthont  such  an  eloquent  response.     Bat  the  fact  t^ 


THE  EXCURSION.  f  [ 

m&lBed  the  same,  and  the  utmost  that  she  oouM  d« 
was  tc  resoive  not  to  encounter  it,  if  she  conld  by  anj 
possibility  avoid  it. 

Presuming  most  of  our  readers  have  stood  on  thfc 
rock-fretted  shores  of  this  once  popular  watering-place, 
and  gazed  with  admiration  at  tlie  heaving  waters  of 
the  bay,  rolling  in  crystalline  azure  waves  to  their  very 
feet,  we  will  not  enter  into  any  detailed  description  of 
the  scene  that  met  the  gaze  of  our  weather-bound  party, 
as  with  sighs  of  eager  relief,  they  left  their  somewhat 
uncomfortable  quarters,  and  stood  once  more  upon  th« 
solid,  substantial  land, 

"  Are  you  tired,  Miss  Berrie  ? "  asked  her  companion, 
as  he  assisted  her  to  gain  the  wharf. 

"  I  believe  I  am,  somewhat ;  it  is  so  tiresome  remain- 
ing in  one  place  for  such  a  length  of  time,  although 
the  hours  Vj.ve  passed  more  rapidly  than  I  would  have 
deemed  possible ; — thanks  to  our  agreeable  company  I " 
she  finished  smiling. 

The  gentleman  bowed  and  responded  earnestly,  "  I 
am  exceedingly  glad  if  you  have  been  entertained,  and 
not  found  a  day  in  the  society  of  strangers  so  formid* 
able  and  wearisome  as  you  had  anticipated." 

"  Will  you  never  forget  my  careless  speech,  Mr. 
A-dair,  or  believe  that  I  had  no  reference  to  you  when 
making  it  ? "  said  Berrie  a  little  confusedly,  but  wholly 
in  earnest. 

"  I  do  not  refer  to  it  maliciously,  Miss  Berrie,  I  as- 
•nre  you  1  Do  not  think  it  1  Nor  do  I  really  believ« 
yen  intended  t/i  be  personal  in  what  you  said,  although 
At  the  moment,  I  confess,  I  felt  piqued,"  returned  hef 


M  THE  EXCmSION, 

companion  gently,  adding  ;  "  But  since  yon  dtf^re  \X^ 
I  shall  think  of  vi  no  more,  and  shall  consider  myflell 
as  coining  nnder  the  head  of  stranger  to  you  no  longer, 
if  you  will  permit.  For  although  our  acquaintance  ii 
•8  yet  Bomewhat  slight,  I  trust  that  some  time  I  nutj 
ha\e  the  pleasure  of  knowing  that  you  class  me  anoim 
your  friends.    May  I  not,  Miss  Berrie  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,  I  trust  so  I  "  she  returned,  hardly  know- 
ing what  reply  to  make,  but  feeling  indeed  that  eh6 
could  no  longer  with  truth  denominate  him  a  Bt^ange^ 
His  evident  kindly  feeling  for  her,  his  efforts  to  amuse 
and  entertain  her,  the  flattering  deference  with  which 
he  ever  seemed  to  regard  her,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
rapidity  with  which  such  informal  intercourse  as  is  a 
natural  consequence  of  an  excursion  like  that,  annihi* 
lates  all  feelings  of  restraint,  and  leaves  those  whe 
were  mere  passing  acquaintances  before,  often  more 
than  friends,  had  taken  away  from  her  feelings,  even 
more  than  her  acts,  all  thought  of  strangeness.  Besidee, 
she  had  been  greatly  prepossessed  in  his  favor  since 
first  their  eyes  had  met,  and  finding  him  under  all  cir- 
cumstances so  truly  the  gentleman,  she  could  not  but  re- 
spect as  well  as  admire  him. 

True,  she  knew  nothing  of  his  antecedents,  hii  liii 
history,  his  future  prospects ; — neither,  my  reader,  dt 
we ;  although  like  her  we  may  do  so  in  the  time  It 
come, — out  that  did  not  hinder  her  interest,  nor  fom 
any  barrier,  she  considered,  to  the  simple  friendsiiip  ha 
asked,  and  that  she  felt  inclined  to  accord.  Lookiii|| 
ap  to  him  as  she  did,  idealizing  him  a  little,  as  womM 
•re  10  apt  to  do  those  to  whom  they  are  attached,  ihf 


TEE  BXOUSSIOJf.  fS 

eoold  but  feel  flattered  that  this  man,  so  greatly  hef 
•nperior  in  age,  culture,  and  attainments,  with  a  mannef 
■o  polished  and  fascinating  it  could  but  win  the  admir- 
•tioD  of  all,  and  a  character  calculated  to  command  any 
Amount  of  adulation  or  affection  he  might  desire,  should 
be  thus  evidently  anxious  for  her  regard,  should  express 
•o  strong  a  wish  to  call  her,  a  simple,  young,  unsophis- 
ticated girl,  his  friend.  Had  he  asked  for  a  warmer 
place  in  her  heart,  doubtless  she  would  have  felt  lesf 
complimented,  less  inclined  to  accord  what  he  desired  ; 
but  to  have  a  friend  like  this  she  felt  would  be  a  great 
good  in  her  life,  and  she  had  not  yet  learned  that  a 
man's  friendship  for  a  woman  is  oftenest  but  "  love  in 
disguise,"  and  that  the  pretty  fallacy  of  friendship  be- 
tween the  sexes  was  long  since  utterly  exploded,  and 
proved  to  be  indeed  but  a  myth  of  fancy. 

After  a  silence  of  some  moments,  he  continued 
earnestly,  and  with  a  touch  of  the  sadness  which  had 
marked  his  bearing  the  preceding  evening, — "  I  do 
not  seek  or  desire  many  friends,  Miss  Berrie  ;  in  fact  I 
am  exceedingly  distrustful  of  friendship,  and  have 
learned  through  bitter  lessons  of  trust  betrayed,  t« 
place  but  little  confidence  either  in  man  or  woman. 
But  since  first  I  saw  you  in  a  Boston  saloon,  gay  and 
happy,  and  accompanied  by  friends  as  lively  as  yourself, 
aotwithstanding  the  contrast  in  our  lives  seemed  so 
great  and  marked,  I  have  felt  a  desire  to  be  permitted 
to  caU  you  my  little  friend,  and  know  that  you  will 
ever  look  upon  me,  or  think  of  me,  rather,  as  one  who 
has  your  happiness  and  future  good  near  at  heart  Per- 
hapa  tfaii  may  seem  to  you  premature,  consideriiig  the. 


94  THE  RXCUBBICN. 

brevity  of  our  acquaintance,  but  yoi  kiow  that  lOlM 
persons  select  their  friends  by  instinit,  and  feel  intnl- 
tively  what  hearts  are  linked  with  theirs  by  the  chaliu 
of  sympathetic  friendship.  Therefore,  shall  we  be 
friends,  Miss  Berrie,  henceforth  and  forever?"  he  oon- 
claded,  more  lightly. 

Forgetting  her  resolution  not  to  meet  his  eyes,  she 
glanced  up  at  his  face,  and  encountered  a  gaze  so 
earnest,  and  almost  impassioned,  that  with  another  pro- 
voking rush  of  color  to  cheek  and  brow,  she  murmured, 
"  Yes,  if  you  please  I " 

"  True  friends  are  very  rare,  Miss  Berrie,"  he  con- 
tinued, smiling  a  little  at  her  confusion  ;  "  and  I  may 
prove  as  fickle  as  the  majority  of  the  world  ;  but  until 
I  do,  trust  me,  little  girl,  and  I  will  endeavor  to  merit 
jour  confidence." 

Ere  this  they  had  reached  the  dancing  hall  of  the 
hotel,  and  Mr.  "Wright,  wlio  with  Belle  had  been  con- 
siderably in  advance  of  them,  came  up  at  this  and  in- 
quired :  "  Miss  Berrie,  will  you  dance  ?  " 

There  were  several  sets  already  on  the  floor,  and  an- 
other forming  which  some  of  their  own  party  had 
joined. 

"  Thank  you,  I  think  not,  here ;  it  is  almost  too  con 
•picuons  I "  she  laughed  in  response  to  his  question. 

"  Your  sister  made  the  same  reply  when  1  asked  Ler^ 
so  I  concluded  to  come  and  see  if  1  could  not  persuade 
y(^n  I " 

"  Fou  are  very  kind  ;  but  I  cou  Id  not  think  of  it  in  a 
public  place  like  this." 

**  Then  I  must  look  farther,  [  see  t  My  feet  ache  to  bt 


THE  SXCURBIOW  M 

keeping  time  with  that  maeic,"  he  Baid  laughing,  m  ha 
tamed  away. 

**  Let  us  find  BelLe,  and  go  outside  I "  said  Berrie. 
**  It  is  rather  warm  here.  How  provoking  it  is  that  rj% 
eould  not  have  readied  Newport." 

**  It  is  indeed  ;  although  it  is  very  lovely  here." 

Miss  Burton  was  soon  found,  and  after  ziJo)]lQg 
around  for  a  time,  watching  the  groups  entertaining 
themselves  with  the  various  facilities  for  amusement,  of 
which  the  place  boasts  so  many,  Berrie  exclaimed,  "  I 
have  a  fancy  I  would  like  to  climb  to  the  top  of  thosfl 
rocks.  The  ascent  does  not  appear  difficult,  and  I 
should  judge  the  view  from  the  summit  might  be  fine. 
Come,  Belle,  let  us  go,  will  you  ? " 

"  No,  thank  you  1 "  laughed  Belle,  "  I  have  no  desire 
to  break  my  neck  to-day,  and  I  never  could  climb." 

"  I  can,  like  a  sailor  I "  was  the  laughing  response. 
"Come,  Belle,  do  I" 

"  No  1  you  and  Mr.  Adair  can  try  it  if  you  like,  and 
I  will  go  over  there  where  Jennie  Wardell  is." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  trouble  Mr.  Adair ;  perhaps  he  Tiaf 
no  fancy  for  climbing." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  should  like  it  exceedingly  1  I  am  fond 
of  lovely  views.  I  promise  to  take  care  of  your  sister, 
Miss  Burton;"  and  Belle  walked  off,  assuring  hina 
gaily  that  she  could  trust  him. 

"  Come,  my  little  friend ! "  with  his  most  winning 
•mile,  and  extending  his  hand,  which  Berrie  quietly 
Ignored,  Baying, "  Lead  on,  then  I " 

•*  *  And  over  the  hills,  and  far  awaj, 
B«7ond  their  ntmost,  pnrple  ilm, 
Bejond  the  night,  beyond  the  di^,* — " 


ft  THE  EXCURSTON. 

^noted  Berrie,  when  they  had  proceeded  ftboot  ImJI 
the  diatance,  and  were  toiling  slowly  over  the  rookli 
the  ttill  declining  his  frequently  offered  assistance; 
yoA  at  the  fourth  line  she  j)aused  abruptly,  coloring  to 
Jie  tips  of  her  fingers  as  she  recalled  the  closing  linti 
of  the  quotation  she  had  thoughtlessly  repeated. 

*'  *■  Throogn  all  the  wodd  riie  followed  him  *  ?  ** 

finished  her  companion  interrogatively,  as  she  pansed, 
and  turning  around  with  u  mischievous  smile  on  hii 
jiustached  lip.  Bnt  his  smile  was  exchanged  for  a 
look  of  concern,  and  he  exclaimed  hastily :  "  Take 
care,  Berrie  1"  forgetting  in  his  anxiety  the  formal 
"  Miss,"  as  Berrie,  in  her  confusion,  careless  of  where 
she  was  stepping,  placed  her  foot  on  a  rolling  stone^ 
and  would  have  fallen  but  for  his  timely  assistance. 

"  I  shall  not  permit  you  to  be  so  independent  again,*' 
he  smiled,  "  or  my  pledge  to  your  sister  will  not  be 
fulfilled.  Allow  me  to  take  your  hand,  Miss  Berrie;" 
and  she  reluctantly  obeyed  his  behest. 

My  reader,  have  you  e\er  noticed  what  a  differ- 
ence there  is  in  the  touch  of  a  hand  ?  Not  alone  the 
effect  f?l:L:ih  it  has  on  the  nervous  system — striking 
fii<h  a  strong  sense  of  physical  repulsion,  sending  a 
ie»iUng  of  quiet  content  and  confidence  through  the 
being,  or  transmitting  little  thrills  of  delicious  pleaRore 
through  every  drop  of  the  sensitive  current  that  flows 
»o  rapidly  to  and  from  the  throbbing  heart — but  in  the 
■oarely  physical  touch  as  well.  That  of  the  cool  and 
eltinmy  hand,  which  holds  your  own  in  a  loose,  easily 
rtbudng  pressure  ;  of  the  hard,  dry  palm,  which  woiUd 


TEE  EXCURSION.  ff 

•eem  impervious  to  the  tender  Bensationa  oi  %  clasp  ol 
ifFection ;  of  the  hand  warm  and  moist,  which  yon 
could  scarcely  fancy  capable  of  a  pressure  expressing 
more  than  indifference  ;  and  of  the  soft,  smooth  hand, 
dry,  and  warm,  and  firm  in  clasp,  indicating  to  you  a 
master-mind  in  its  owner — a  hand  formed  to  wield  % 
Boeptre,  or  rule  with  its  magic  touch  a  kingdom  of 
hearts. 

Such  was  the  hand  which  took  the  delicate  palm  of 
the  girl  in  a  strong,  firm,  sustaining  clasp.  No  passion 
was  in  the  pressure,  only  the  warm  clasp  of  a  friend, 
the  firm  hold  of  a  helper,  the  strong,  protecting  grasj 
of  H  man.  And  yet  the  girl  felt  in  every  fibre  of  her 
being  the  magic  touch,  felt  the  ruling  power  of  a  great 
soul,  a  mind  far  above  her  own  in  scope  and  exer- 
cise, in  every  tightening  hold  of  the  manly,  ungloved 
hand. 

They  reached  the  summit  at  last,  and  paused  in 
breathless  admiration  of  the  scene  which  stretched  be- 
fore their  gaze,  and  the  variety  that  the  lovely  view 
presented.  High-piled  recks,  wooded  slopes,  sandy 
beach,  and  the  gleaming,  crested  billows  of  the  sea 
rnshing  to  kiss  the  naked  feet  of  the  beautiful  land ; 
while  here  and  there  the  hand  of  man  had  joined  with 
that  of  Nature  to  beautify  the  scene. 

"  It  is  worthy  the  toil,  is  it  not  ?  "  said  the  gentleman 
at  last,  breaking  a  silence  of  some  moments. 

"  It  is,  indeed  I  Lovely  beyond  description  1 "  was 
the  earnest  reply.     "  A  beautiful,  beautiful  world  ! " 

"  Did  you  evor  attempt  to  realize,"  said  Mr.  A.dair 
ireamily,  "  the  vastness  of  the  intellect,  if  such  w«  can 
I 


fl  THE  EXCURSION. 

call  it,  which  could  p. an  and  exccuto  so  raa;  I'elloM  a 
piece  of  work  ?  Combining  strengtii  and  solidifcy  with 
the  most  perfect  grace  and  beauty  ?  Look  at  thfl 
mountains,  strong,  and  firm,  and  massive,  seeming  to 
our  bounded  sight  to  tower  to  the  very  clouds  which 
bend  from  His  own  starry  heavens ;  the  vales,  robed 
in  all  the  beauty  and  softness  of  Nature's  exquisite 
dress ;  the  vast,  impulsive  sea,  ebbing  and  flowing, 
lashed  into  fury  or  sleeping  in  undisturbed  calm  at  the 
behest  of  its  divine  Master;  the  massive  rocks  mi 
changed  and  unchanging ;  the  wealth  of  verdure  which 
geems  to  die  at  the  breath  of  Winter,  only  to  be  revivi- 
fied by  the  touch  of  balmy  Spring  into  new  life  and 
beauty,  and  a  thousand  other  as  grand  and  noble 
works.  And  yet,  after  creating  so  much  that  was 
mighty  and  wonderful,  He  could  stoop  to  form  the 
simplest  flower  that  decorates  the  earth,  or  this  little 
insignificant  worm  whicli  I  could  crush  with  one  touch 
of  my  foot.  I  lose  myself  in  admiration  and  wonder 
when  I  attempt  tc  realize  such  greatness.'' 

"I  am  too  young,  perhaps,  to  have  thought  very 
ieeply  on  scarcely  any  subject  of  much  magnitude," 
the  girl  returned  modestly  ;  "  but  I  have  often  won' 
dered  how  any  one  can  look  upon  all  these  beautiful 
and  wonderful  things  and  believe  that  there  is  no  Gk)d. 
It  seems  to  me  they  must  be  very  ignorant  or  possessed 
of  a  very  narrow  soul." 

''  It  ia  not  often  the  ignorant  that  are  sceptics.  The 
less  of  education  a  man  possesses  the  more  of  that  Bub- 
hme  qoality  which  some  find  it  so  diflScult  to  exercifle, 
he  leemfl  to  have— ^/ai^l  /  without  which  there  is  no 


THE   EXCURSION.  ^ 

eomfort  for  as  here  and  no  blessed  reU.  hereafter. 
But  it  is  not  common  in  these  days  to  meet  one  who 
really  does  not  believe  in  the  Deity ;  but  alas  I  there 
•re  too  many  even  yet  who  reject  our  divine,  our 
matchless  Saviour,  and  even  in  this  enlightened  Chria- 
tian  land." 

"  It  seems  to  me  such  persons  cannot  be  sincere." 

"  I  oonfess  it  does  to  me  also  sometimes.    And  while 
1  would  advocate  the  utmost  liberty  as  far  as  forma 
and  sectarian  opinions  are  concerned,  I  have  little  tol 
eration  or  patience  for  a  man  who  professes  not  to  be 
lieve  in  the  divinity  of  Christ." 

"  I  could  have  no  respect  or  regard  for  such  a  per- 
Bon,  I  am  sure,  no  matter  how  nearly  related  to  me  by 
the  ties  of  blood  he  might  be.  Our  blessed,  lovely 
Saviour  I "  she  continued  musingly.  "  Whose  career 
was  one  long  triumph  of  divinity  over  humanity,  and 
whose  glorious  ascension  set  the  seal  to  his  claim  to  be 
the  '  Son  of  God '  1  Wliose  life  was  perfectly  lovely, 
blameless,  and  without  guile." 

"  The  world  has  not  changed,  my  little  friend,  and 
flow,  as  ever,  there  are  some  who  scoff  at  the  gentle 
Nazarene.  I  always  wish  to  pray  for  such  to  feel  TTig 
power  in  their  souls,  and  let  their  hearts  convince  their 
intellects,  until,  like  the  faithless  Thomas,  they  cry, 
*  My  Lord  and  my  God  1 ' " 

They  stood  in  silence  for  a  few  moments  longer, 
gazing  at  the  lovely  panorama  spread  before,  and  then 
began  to  retrace  their  steps,  as  dinner  had  been  ordered 
at  the  hotel,  and  they  did  not  care  to  miss  it,  or  en- 
oonnter  the  qneeiions  which  their  absence  would  be 


100  THE  t'XUlIiSJOir. 

certain  to  excite.  But  in  the  aescent,  Terrie^  ftgaiii 
Maerting  her  independence  of  her  companion's  isslst- 
ance,  turned  ber  foot  upon  a  low  but  narrow  ledge, 
ftnd,  with  a  little  ciy,  bad  fallen  bef(  re  the  gentleman, 
who  was  a  few  steps  iu  advance,  could  prevent. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Berrie?  I  am  afraid  you  are,"  said 
Mr.  Adair  anxiously,  as  he  bent  over  the  prostrate  girl, 
and  assisted  her  to  her  feet. 

"  I  have  sprained  my  anlde  a  little,  I  believe,"  her 
white  lips  testifying  to  the  pain  she  was  suffering  from 
it.  "  If  I  can  sit  down  for  a  moment,  1  think  it  will 
be  better;  it  is  not  serious,  I  presume,"  she  said 
bravely,  and  soon  professed  her  ability  to  proceed. 

"  This  comes  of  your  being  so  exceedingly  indepei.<l- 
ent,  Berrie.  What  will  your  sister  say  to  my  perm.'t' 
ting  you  to  get  hurt  in  this  manner  ?  Lean  as  h«^avil^ 
as  you  like,  child,"  he  added,  as  he  drew  her  hand 
within  his  arm. 

"  Belle  will  say  nothing  that  can  reflect  upon  yon, 
Mr.  Adair,  I  assure  you  1  She  knows  how  wilful  I  am, 
and  you  certainly  are  not  in  the  least  in  fault.  Do  n^ 
blame  yourself,  I  beg." 

"  I  should  have  walked  zitcr  you  instead  of  in  ad 
Vance ;  then  I  miglit  possibly  Lave  prevented  it,"  hi 
returned  regretfully 

"  I  do  not  think  it  I  I  have  onl^;  my  own  careleM 
ness  to  blame.  But  it  is  better  now ;  I  can  walk  with 
comparative  comfort." 

"  I  could  carry  you  with  ease,  were  it  not  for  thl 
'eyes  of  lo<jker8-on,'  "  he  said 

**I  oofold  not  permit  it!"  she  returned   qniokly. 


THE  EXCURSION.  101 

*  Not,  at  least,  while  I  am  able  to  take  a  step.  Yon 
are  very  kind,"  she  added,  gratefully. 

"  Not  at  all !  I  wish  I  could  make  it  easier  for  you, 
I  am  afraid  it  pains  you  more  than  you  will  own ;  yon 
look  rather  white." 

"Do  I?  It  is  the  first  time  in  my  life,  then,  1 
fancy  1 "  and  her  laugh  dispelled  for  the  moment  Lif 
Anxiety. 

They  reached  the  hotel  at  last,  and  there  was  the 
usual  quantity  of  questions  and  comments,  from  which 
Berrie  shrank  with  more  discomfort  than  her  swelling 
ankle  caused.  A  shower  of  cold  water  relieved  the 
latter  somewhat,  and  dinner  over,  she  succeeded  in 
getting  on  board  the  yacht  with  comparative  comfort, 
although  it  had  already  commenced  swelling  consider- 
ably. 

It  was  about  seven  o'clock  when  the  little  vessd 
weighed  anchor,  and  with  her  merry  party  of  the 
morning  glided  from  her  moorings  at  the  whaif.  The 
clouds  in  the  far  west  we>  e  glowing  with  all  the  eplen- 
dor  of  an  American  summer  sunset,  and,  bending  ovei 
the  heaving  waters,  left  therein  their  own  fair  reflec- 
tion.  But  the  bri  liant  colors,  after  lingering  for  a 
while,  slowly  fadea  info  cold  gray  and  scarcely  lesi 
cold  blue ;  the  stars  peeped  shyly  out,  one  by  one,  from 
behind  the  azure  curtains  that  veiled  the  heavenly  win- 
dows ;  and  the  moon,  riding  triumphantly  and  serenelT 
above  in  her  chariot  of  state,  tipped  with  silver  tae 
reachea  of  dark  water  in  the  distance,  while  phospho- 
rescent lights  tinged  the  nearer  waves  with  gleams  oi 
Uving  fire.    The  air  wag  clear,  c£d  soft,  and  cool, 


l(^  THti  ExcxmaioN. 

wind  and  tide  condescended  to  be  propltions,  and  A« 
little  craft  bounded  gaily  along  over  the  sparkling 
fratere  ;  while  the  curtains  of  darkness,  through  which 
•tole  gleams  of  silvery  moonlight,  wrapped  them  in 
their  sable,  impalpable  folds. 

"  Sing,  Berrie,  sing ! "  cried  Jennie  "Wardell,  as  the 
|Ey  conversation  flagged  for  a  moment.  "Music  on 
the  waves  is  so  exquisite !     Sing,  please,  my  dear." 

"Do  not  urge  me,  Jennie,  ask  some  one  else.  1 
sannot  sing  where  there  are  so  many." 

"  Nonsense  1  are  there  more  here  than  there  were  in 
the  exhibition  hall  at  school,  when  yon  graduated  f 
We  cannot  excuse  you,  please,  sing  1 " 

«  Oh,  but  that  was  different  1 " 

"  Come,  don't  require  urging,  like  most  of  the  young 
ladies.  '  Birds  that  can  sing,  and  won't  sing,  must  be 
made  to  sing,'  you  know." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  would  find  that  difficult.  I  am 
not  accustomed  to  compulsion.     But  what  shall  it  be?'* 

"  I  don't  know,  what  are  you  familiar  with  ?  Oh, 
^Murmuring  Sea '  is  pretty  and  appropriate  also.  Can 
you  sing  it  ?  " 

"  I  can  sing  my  part,  but  it  is  a  duet  you  know, 
and  I  do  not  think  I  could  sustain  both  parts  very 
well." 

"  Oh  surely  I  Let's  seel  Who  of  the  gentlemen  in 
tlie  party  sing?  Mr.  Wright?" 

"  Never  1  I  aeeure  you.  Miss  Wax  dell  1" 

"No?  Well,  Mr.  Adair,  yoii  do!  I  am  poirtiTf  1^ 
have  heard  you." 

"  Indeed  ? "  he  quietly  retimed. 


TEE  EXOURBION.  101 

•  1  was  not  aware  that  you  sang,  Mr.  Idair.  Can 
you  take  the  other  part  to  the  duet  in  q^iestion  \ ''  in- 
quired Berrie. 

"  I  will  do  my  best  to  assist  you,  Miss  Berrie  \  " 

"  Very  well ;  you  take  the  lead,  I  believe  I "  and  in  a 
pure  cultivated  tenor  he  began  the  beautiful  air,  Berrie 
joining  in  her  turn  with  her  clear,  sweet  soprano,  while 
the  vibrating  sea-born  echoes  added  their  accompani- 
ment to  the  charm  of  the  blended  voices.  Other  songs 
followed,  in  many  of  which  the  greater  portion  of  the 
party  joined,  and  as  the  nine  o'clock  bells  struck  their 
first  peal,  the  vessel  touched  the  wharf,  and  their  ex- 
cursion was  among  the  scenes  of  the  past. 

A  cry  of  pain  escaped  involuntarily  from  Berrie's 
lips  as  she  attempted  to  use  the  injured  limb,  and  she 
soon  found  it  would  be  impossible  to  reach  home 
by  walking.  Some  lads  were  standing  idly  on  the 
wharf,  and  Mr.  Adair  despatched  one  of  them  for  a 
carriage,  which  speedily  made  its  appearance,  and 
Berrie  was  lifted  carefully  in,  followed,  of  course,  by 
her  companion. 

"I  cannot  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Adair  just  as  they 
reached  the  house,  "  how  much  I  regret  that  such  an 
accident  should  have  happened  to  you  at  all,  and  more 
particularly  while  under  my  protection.  I  am  afraid 
your  mother  will  never  trust  you  with  me  again." 

"  Oh,  do  not  think  it,  Mr.  Adair,  nor  reproach  your- 
ielf  in  the  least.  I  cannot  bear  that  you  should,  as 
you  were  in  no  degree  in  fault." 

"  I  cannot  cease  to  do  so,  nevertheless  1  I  shall  call 
in  the  morning  to  see  how  you  are  I "  and  vvhen  h« 


104  TEE  ExcunsnN. 

lifted  her  from  the  carriage,  notwithstaiiviin^  her  proi 
testations,  his  stroiif^  arms  carried  her  gently  and  etfilj 
np  the  walk. 

Belle  had  returned  home  immediately  after  theii 
landing,  to  prepare  her  motlier  for  Berrid's  accident, 
lest  she  should  be  alarmed  at  her  manner  of  returning 
home,  and  as  Eugene  Adair  placed  her  on  the  sofa  in 
the  parlor,  Mrs.  Burton  said  to  him :  "I  am  afraid  my 
wilful  little  daughter  here  has  given  you  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  to-day.  She  is  so  venturesome  and  inde- 
pendent that  I  wonder  she  is  alive.  She  was  always 
in  trouble  for  her  recklessness  when  a  child,  and  I  am 
afraid  she  has  not  outgrown  all  childish  things.  But  I 
am  thankful  the  matter  is  no  worse." 

"  As  I  am  also,  I  assure  you  1  I  regret  the  accident 
more  than  I  can  say  1 "  returned  the  gentleman  ear- 
nestly. 

"  But  it  was  all  my  own  carelessness,  and  no  one  elflo 
is  at  all  to  blame,"  protested  Berrie. 

•'  Oh,  I  dare  say  1  I  am  sure  Mr.  Adair  took  quite 
as  good  care  of  you  as  you  would  allow,"  said  her 
mother.  "But  I  will  doctor  it  for  you,  and  it  will  be 
better  in  a  day  or  two,  I  presume,  dear." 

"  I  hope  and  trust  so  1 "  said  Mr.  Adair,  as  he  bent 
c  ?er  her  to  bid  her  good-by.  "  Good  night,  my  little 
friend  1 "  he  added  softly.  "  I  shall  hope  to  see  you 
much  better  to-morrow.  You  are  a  brave  little  girl,** 
and  bidding  the  others  good  evening  he  took  his  de- 
parture. 

Berrie  with  much  difficulty  and  some  pain  succeeded 
in  getting  upstairs,  and  was  soon  in  bed,  and  while  thft 


THE  EXCL  .ISIOir. 


101 


itrong  arms  of  her  "friend"  seemed  still  lingering 
around  her,  and  his  low,  cultivated  tones  yet  ringing 
in  her  ears,  the  angel  of  sleep  bent  lovingly  over  her, 
•oothing  the  unquiet  nerves,  quelling  the  spirit  >f  rest- 
lesBness  which  seemed  in  possession  of  her,  anu  bring- 
ing for  a  time,  unconsciousness  alike  of  pleasore  an4 
of  pain. 


w^mm^ 


^ 


CHAPTER  YIL 


THE   LA270IJAGE   OF   FLOWSBil 

'  I  flnd  she  loves  him  mnch  becanse  she  hides  l|| 
Lore  teaches  onrming  even  to  innooence ; 
And  when  he  gets  possession,  his  first  work 
Is  to  dig  deep  within  a  heart,  and  thero 
Lie  hid,  and  like  a  miser  in  the  dark, 
To  feast  alone." 

Dbtddl 

ATTIE,  dear,  rnn  down  and  ask  Belle  if  she 
will  comf)  up  and  help  me  dress.  I  believe  I 
will  get  up,  and  I  do  not  think  I  could  make 
vy  toilet  without  some  assistance.  If  she  is  busy  teU 
Aer  I  azn  in  no  hurry,"  said  Berric,  on  the  morning  fol- 
lowin|5  the  excursion,  as  her  little  sister  was  kianing 
on  her  pillty-v  playing  with  the  unconfined  but  t  JiUbled 
ringlets,  and  interspersing  her  lively  ch&t  vrlib  many 
loving  kisses. 

Hattie  obeyed,  and  Miss  Burton  soon  alter  made 
her  appearance,  carrying  in  her  hand  a  beautiful 
bouquet  of  wator-lilies. 

"  So  you  think  you  will  get  up,  do  you,  my  pretty 
Invftlid  I "  said  Belle  gaily,  as  she  entered  the  room, 


THE  LJLNOUAOE  OF  FLO  VEBS.  107 

Adding :  "  Our  handsome  Eugene  was  here  a  fe^  mo- 
ments ago,  to  know  how  you  were ;  and  see  what  he 
brought  me  1 "  with  a  mischievous  sparkle  in  her  fine 
dark  eyes.  "  Are  they  not  lovely  ?  Don't  you  wish 
they  were  yours  ?  Oh,  I'll  let  you  have  one  scent  of 
them,"  and  she  held  them  to  her  sister's  face,  and  then 
drew  them  tantalizingly  away. 

"  Oh,  give  them  to  me !  I  know  they  are  for  me  1  ^ 
exclaimed  Berrie,  instantly  detecting  the  ruse.  "  Peo* 
pie  always  send  flowers  to  invalids,  you  know  1 "  she 
continued  laughingly. 

"  For  you  ?  the  idea !  Do  you  suppose  that  Eugene 
Adair  would  send  anything  of  the  kind  to  a  little  girl 
like  you  ?  Haven't  I  known  him  longer  than  you  have, 
ever  so  much  ? " 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  have  !  I  know  he  sent  them  to 
me ;  he  likes  little  girls !  "  she  added,  blushing  a  little 
as  she  thought  how  soft  and  low  had  been  the  tones  in 
which  he  had  called  her  thus  the  previous  day. 

"  Does  he  ?  indeed  1  perhaps  he  meant  them  for 
Hattie  then.  Are  they  not  lovely,  Berrie  1 "  and  she 
held  them  tantalizingly  just  out  of  reach. 

"  You  provoking  girl  1 "  exclaimed  Berrie,  laugh- 
ing, making  an  attempt  to  grasp  the  hand  which  wai 
holding  the  lowers,  and  succeeding  at  length  in  rifling 
it  of  its  fragrant  dewy  contents.  "  I  don't  see  where 
he  procured  them  ?    Do  you.  Belle  ? " 

"  Oh,  what  a  thief  1  I'll  tell  him  when  I  see  him 
that  you  stole  all  the  pretty  posies  he  gave  me  to-day,** 
taid  Belle,  pretending  to  feel  greatly  aggrieved 

^Well,  dot    I  don't  care  as  long  as  I  have  th« 


108  TEB  LANGUAGE  OJ"  PL0WBH8. 

flowers.  Bnt  what  did  he  say  ? "  ehe  asked,  blaBhingljj 
and  hiding  her  tell-tale  face  among  the  f ragrajt  iiliei 
■he  held. 

"  Say  ?  He  said  you  were  the  naughtiest  girl  he  kLe  w 
and  he'd  never  take  you  on  such  an  excursion  again  ; 
that  he  didn't  wish  to  be  remembered  to  you,  and  he 
should  call  this  evening,  but  hoped  you  wouldn't  be 
downstairs.     There  I  are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  1  am  afraid  you  are  like  the  most  of  your  sex.  Belle ; 
your  no  means  yes  ;  and  I  may  take  what  you  say  at*- 
contraire,  may  I  not?"  returned  Berrie  laughing,  but 
still  averting  her  face. 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  your  vanity  would  suggest  that  you 
liay.  But  you  will  see  to-night  how  disappointed  he 
will  be  to  find  you  downstairs,  when  he  was  hoping 
for  a  tete-d-tdte  with  me." 

"  Oh,  there  would  be  no  chance  for  that,  as  Mr 
Wright  would  be  certain  \o  be  around,"  Berrie  re- 
plied mischievously,  while  it  was  her  sister's  turn  to 
look  confused. 

"  Mr.  Wright  is  going  to  Boston  to-day,"  Belle  an* 
•wered  more  quietly. 

"  Indeed  ?  how  wiU  you  get  through  the  evening 
without  him.  Belle  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  I  am  sure  1  But  Eugene  would 
console  me,  if  you  only  were  n  )t  in  the  'vay." 

"  *  Eugene ! '  how  familiar  we  are  getting  1  But  yon 
need  not  be  so  certain  that  I  shall  be  down.  I  think  I 
will  play  invalid,  and  remain  up-stairs  to-day." 

"  Nonsense  I  you  will  do  nothing  of  tne  kind.     Yoi 


TJSB  LANGUAGE   OF  FLOWXBSL  lOf 

innst  go  down,  if  I  have  to  carry  you,"  Belle  replieo, 
more  earnestly. 

"  I  fancy  yoc  would  not  care  to  try  that  nitre  tlua 
once.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  prevent  your  anticipated 
tdte-a-tete." 

"  Well,  it  is  a  shame  that  you  should,  I  know ;  still 
I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  avoided.  But,  Berrie,  it  seema 
to  me  that  Adair  is  getting  very  attentive,"  and  Belle 
glanced  furtively  at  her  sister,  as  she  prepared  to  assist 
her  to  arise. 

"  Attentive  co  whom  ?  yourself.  Belle  I  Well,  is  not 
that  what  you  desire  ? "  the  girl  returned,  her  confusion 
painting  a  world  of  crimson  roses  on  the  olive  cheekg 
^ill  bent  above  the  waxen  lilies. 

"  Oh,  how  innocent  we  are  I  Don't  devour  the  flow- 
ers, Berrie,  if  your  devoted  did  send  them  to  you." 

"  My  devoted !  Don't  talk  nonsense.  Belle ;  he  is  old 
enough  to  be  my  father." 

"*Love  counts  time  by  heart-throbs,  not  by  years!' 
and 

*  Why  should  we  const  our  Uvea  by  j«tait^ 
Since  years  are  short  and  pass  away  f ' 

Come,  get  up,  you  lazy  girl  1  lying  in  bed  until  thlt 
time  in  the  day." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to,  I  am  sure  ♦  But  here  1 
place  these  lilies  in  water,  please.  Are  Aey  not  per- 
fect 1 "  with  one  riore  admiring  glance  and  inhalation, 
ere  si.e  released  tuem  from  her  clasp. 

"  I  wish  Belle  wouldn't  put  Such  ideas  in  m/  head, 
cr  get  them  in  her  own,  either  ! "  mused  Berrie,  as  she 
prepared  to  make  her  toilet.     "  Oi  course  he  does  nol 


110  THE  LAJfOUAOB  OF  FL  IWBRS. 

or  will  not  care  for  a  '  little  gir.  '  like  me,  except  as  a 
friend,  as  he  said  he  did  yest/^rcay.  lie  is  bo  grand 
and  noble,  and  so  mnch  older  and  wiser.  If  he  wen 
a  younger  man  I  should  not  feel  so  free  with  him ;  but 
of  course  his  attentions  do  not  mean  anything,  and  he 
will  go  away  by  and  by,  and  I  probably  shall  never  see 
him  again,"  and  more  of  regret  than  she  would  have 
been  willing  to  confess  mingled  with  the  closing 
thoughts,  which  Belle  interrupted  by  inquiring,  "  What 
dress  shall  I  bring  you  Berrie  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  1 "  she  replied.  "  Something 
pretty,  I  suppose,  as  it  will  have  to  suffice  for  all 
day." 

"  All  day  I  I  should  think  it  might.  Why,  what 
time  do  you  think  it  is.  Miss  Indolence  ? "  and  she  held 
Berrie's  watch,  which  was  lying  on  the  bureau,  before 
her  face. 

"  Half -past  twelve  1     Is  it  possible,  Belle  ? " 

"  It  is,  indeed.  Miss  Berrie  1     Well,  what  dress  ? " 

"  Oh,  anything  you  like  1  I  don't  care  I  That  pink 
wrapper,  I  think,  with  the  white  trimmings." 

"  The  most  becoming  dress  you  have  I  That  looki 
as  if  you  didn't  care." 

"  Well,  I  do  not ;  I  would  as  soon  have  anything 
else." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  you  wish  to  look  the  interesting  in- 
valid this  evening,  so  I  will  let  you  have  it.  But  novel- 
invalids  always  wear  white  or  crimson,  you  know." 

"  Weh,  I  am  not  in  8  novel,  and  the  pink  is  near  enongh 
to  crimson,  I  presume.  A  lace  collar.  Belle,  the  linen 
are  not '  becoming '  you  know  ! "  with  a  little  latigh. 


THE  LAN0UA9E  OF    ^LOWERS  \\X 

**  Will  yon  have  your  watch  ? " 

**No,  I  don't  care  about  it!  Yes  I  wiU,  too,  I 
think." 

"  Yen  VAj  wish  to  count  the  hours  until  to-night  I* 
ttld  Belle,  teasingly. 

"  Surely  *  so  bring  it  along,"  and  her  sister  threw 
the  gleaming  chain  around  her  ne«3k,  and  tucked  the 
watch  in  the  embroidered  belt  of  her  wrapper. 

"  There !  you  are  as  sweet  as  Eugene's  lilies  I  "  said 
Belle,  kissing  her. 

"Flatterer!  But  take  them  down  to  the  parlor, 
Belle  ;  or  stay,  leave  two  or  three  of  them  up  here." 

"  Fa  will  be  home  soon ;  you  had  better  wait  until 
he  comes  before  you  go  down."  And  Miss  Burton  left 
the  room,  carrying  in  her  hand  the  fragrant  bouquet  of 
lilies.  Some  late  blush-roses  were  added,  with  gera- 
nium leaves,  a  few  sprigs  of  heliotrope,  and  some 
trailing  myrtle  and  ivy,  and  the  whole,  tastily  arranged 
in  a  handsome  vase,  greeted  Berrie  as  she  entered  the 
parlor,  leaning  heavily  on  her  father's  arm. 

"  What  will  you  have,  Berrie,  to  amuse  yourself 
with  ?  "  inquired  Belle,  entering  the  room  a  few  min- 
rt«s  later. 

"  Oh,  a  book,  I  suppose  !  Give  me  my  *  Wanderer  * 
until  you  are  dressed,  and  then  I  expect  you  to  amnie 
me ! "  archly 

"  Indeed  !  just  as  tf  I  had  nothing  else  to  do  I  ** 

"  And,  Belle,"  she  called  as  her  sister  was  leaving  tl^e 
room,  "  bring  down  that  little  sacque  I  am  embroiaer- 
ing  for  Hattie,  please,  when  you  come ;  I  will  lew  • 
UtUe,  I  think." 


11§  TEB  lANOVAOE  OF  FLOWEBB. 

"  Very  well ; "  aud  Miea  Burton  passed  on  up  thf 
•taira. 

For  an  hour  or  two,  Berrie  was  left  alone,  half  ro- 
ftlining  in  the  depths  of  her  easy  chair,  dra^vn  close  to 
the  open  window  of  the  darkened  parlor,  reading 
favorite  passages  in  the  little  book  she  held,  or  leaning 
her  soft  cheek  in  her  hand,  musing — of  what  ?  Some- 
thing  pleasant,  to  judge  by  the  dreamy  smile  on  her  lipa, 
and  the  flush  which  warmed  the  olive  of  her  dusky 
cheek,  until  it  rivalled  in  color  the  rose  of  her  high 
cut  embroidered  dress. 

How  delicious  is  the  dreamy  languor  that  gently 
steals  over  one,  on  a  warm,  sultry  afternoon  in  mid- 
lummer,  when,  disregarding  all  ciiils  to  duty  or  labor, 
one  lounges  indolently  in  the  depths  of  a  luxurioua 
chair,  where  close-drawn  blinds  shut  out  the  gleaming 
golden  sunlight,  while  without  the  summer  breeze  in 
gentle  sighs  floats  lazily  past,  and  the  hum  of  insects, 
the  song  of  locusts,  and  the  warble  of  bappy  birds, 
blend  in  oxie  harmonious  chorus,  or  with  dreamy 
monotone  lull  the  senses  to  even  deeper  oblivion.  And 
when  to  this  are  added  the  rose-hued  dreams  of  youth, 
thrilling  with  their  perfect  beauty  and  sweetnesB,  the 
unti'ied  heart  of  the  dreamer, — a  heart  that  has  yet 
learned  no  lessons  of  distrust  or  regret, — how  blissful 
seems  the  spell  I 

I  would  fain  linger  over  the  record  of  tliis  sammer, 
^hich  to  tlie  gentle  girl  was  one  g/ittering  chain  of 
**  liaked  iwootness,  long  drawn  e*t  *"  ««*>«le  s^  mw  ye| 

**  flteadinif  with  reluoUnt  feel, 
th*  brook  vmI  rlrw 


THE  LANGUAGE  OF  FLOWERS.  \\$ 

before  womanhood's  consciousness  had  come  knocking 
londly  at  her  awakened  heart,  ere  her  lips  had  tasted 
the  bittei'  draught  of  sorrow,  or  her  fair  young  head 
was  crowned  with  woman's  coronet  of  aggravating  and 
impotent  despair. 

But  the  happy  reverie  of  the  girl  was  interrupted  at 
last  by  the  entrance  of  her  sister,  looking  fresh  and 
»ool,  in  her  delicate  flowing  robes ;  and  while  the  fingers 
of  each  were  busied  with  some  pretty  needle-work,  the 
gay  conversation  nexer  flagged.  Jennie  Wardell  ran 
in  for  a  few  moments,  to  talk  over  the  events  of  the 
preceding  day,  and  learn  how  Berrie  was  after  her 
Accident ;  then  came  the  early  tea,  and  Berrie  was  as 
gisted  out  to  the  dining-room, — which  was  in  an  exten- 
sion on  the  same  floor — and  was  barely  ensconced 
again  in  her  easy  chair  by  the  window,  when  the  door- 
bell rang. 

Miss  Burton  replied  to  the  summons,  and  found,  aa 
Bhe  expected,  Eugene  Adair  awaiting  admission. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Adair ;  walk  in  the  parlor,  and 
please  excuse  me  for  a  few  minutes;  you  will  find 
Berrie  there,"  and  she  opened  the  door  and  ushered 
him  into  her  sister's  presence. 

"  Ah  1  Good  evening,  Berrie  1  So  you  are  sufiS- 
ciently  recovered  from  the  effects  of  your  accident  to 
get  down  stairs  1  I  am  very  glad,  I  assure  you."  And 
he  bent  over  the  little  hand  of  the  girl,  as  laughing  and 
blushing  she  said : 

"  Oh^  yes,  I  am  better,  thank  yon !  but  yon  will 
please  excuse  me  from  rising." 

*'  Certainly !  do  not  attempt  it,"  and  he  drew  a  duui 


114  THE  LAJHSUAOB  CF  FLOWBSb, 

near  her  own,  and  sat  down,  remarking  absentlj :  "  So 
yoa  are  much  better  I " 

"  Much  better,  thank  you,  yes !  although  not  able  to 
ue  my  foot  much  as  yet." 

"  I  presume  not,  but  trust  you  will  be  soon.  I  see 
jou  received  my  lilies ! "  drawing  the  vase  toward 
him  to  inhale  their  fragrance. 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  thank  you  so  much  1  How  very  love^ 
ly  they  are  1 " 

"  Exquisitely  1  I  am  glad  you  were  pleased.  You 
like  flowers?" 

"  Oh,  so  very  mu^h  1  I  am  teasing  Pa  to  add  a 
conservatory  to  the  house,  that  we  may  have  them  aU 
the  year." 

"  Bristol  people  generally  seem  very  fond  of  them, 
to  judge  from  the  numerous  gardens  one  sees." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  they  are ! " 

"  And  what  is  }y)ur  favorite  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  scarcely  know !  I  love  and  admire  so 
many.  Pansies,  fuclisias,  geraniums,  carnations,  lilies 
—oh,  everything  in  the  shape  of  flowers  1 "  she  con- 
tijmed,  laughingly.  "  I  am  most  partial  to  sweet-scent- 
ed plants,  however." 

"  Then  you  like  the  tube-rose,  and  this  beautiful 
»rild  lily  queen  I"  he  remarked,  touching  caressingly 
the  waxen  petals  of  the  flowers  in  the  rase. 

'*  Oh,  yes,  of  course  1  Pond-lilies  are  almost  peerless. 
I  am  particularly  fond  of  wild  flowers,  if  I  may  gather 
them  myself;  and  of  all  climbing  plants  or  shrubs,  I 
think  the  wistaria  the  most  beautiful.  I  have  gazed  u 
the  graceful,  delicate  clusters  in  admiration,  until  I 


IHE  LAHQUAQ^  OF  FLOWBItS.  lU 

longed  to  lay  my  cheek  to  the  lilac  beauties,  or  preti 
their  dewy,  fragrant  clusters  to  my  very  lips." 

"  Tou  are  enthusiastic  I  "  he  smiled. 

She  laughed  a  little  confusedly  and  returned :  "  I 
mm  afraid  I  am  1  but  my  love  for  flowers  amounti 
almost  to  a  passion." 

"  A  very  innocent  and  beautiful  one,  my  little  girl, 
and  I  trust  you  may  not  find  that 

'  The  heart  that  is  soonest  awake  to  the  fiowen^ 
Is  always  the  first  to  be  touched  by  the  thoma.* 

But  do  you  understand  their  language  ? " 

"  Very  little,  although  I  have  one  or  two  books  ob 
the  subject." 

"  Then  if  I  should  present  you  with  oue  of  the8« 
fair  blush-roses,  a  leaf  of  rose-geranium,  a  sprig  of 
heliotrope  and  myrtle,  thus  forming  a  bouquet" — 
drawing  each  from  the  vase  before  him  as  he  spoke— 
"  you  would  not  know  what  sentiments  I  wished  to  con- 
vey ? "  and  he  glanced  furtively  at  the  down-cast  face 
as  he  presented  her  the  bouquet  thus  formed. 

Lower  drooped  the  fair,  young  head  over  the  dainty 
embroidery  she  held,  and  the  fragrant  cluster  of  flow- 
ers, until  the  flossy  curls  hid  the  crimsoning  cheeks,  ai 
she  replied  softly,  "  I  fear  I  should  not ;  no ! " 

"  Shall  I  read  them  to  you  ? "  in  a  tone  as  soft  and 
low  as  her  own. 

"  If  you  please  1 " 

"  The  rose  is  an  emblem  of  your  own  fair  yonth  , 
the  geranium  suggests  that  though  many  are  lovely  yon 
excel  all ;  the  heliotrope  whispers  of  deToted  attach 


11^  THE  IjANOUAGB  OF  FLOWBBS. 

ment,  and  the  little  sprig  of  rayrtle  assnres  yon  tli»t 
absence  cannot  conquer  affection.  Is  not  that  compre 
hensive  for  an  impromptu  boqnet  ? "  and  he  laughed 
»3ftly  as  the  fair  face  still  remained  hidden  and  the  rosy 
lipa  unclosed  for  no  reply,  smiled  also  to  think  that  he 
had  so  far  renewed  his  departed  youth  as  to  be  talking 
thus  to  a  young  and  lovely  lady  in  the  mystic  language 
of  flowers. 

He  took  her  hand  and  attempted  to  look  in  the  avert- 
ed face,  saying  softly,  as  she  drew  her  hand  away  and 
turned  still  farther  from  him,  "What  have  I  done, 
Berrie,  that  you  will  not  look  at  me  ?  Do  you  not  like 
^ur  flowers?"  Then  laughing  again,  the  low,  con- 
Bcious,  significant  laugh,  which  the  girl  thought  so  pro 
voking,  as  he  still  received  no  answer  from  her  lips. 

Berrie  was  painfully  embarrassed,  and  thought  long' 
ingly,  "  Oh,  if  Belle  would  only  come  in  1  What  ccm 
keep  her  so  long  away  1 " 

A  silence  of  some  moments  succeeded,  and  then  Mr. 
Adair  said  gently,  as  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  little 
blue-covered  book,  and  placed  it  in  her  lap,  among  the 
embroidery  and  flowers ;  "  Berrie,  I  have  brought  you 
•omething  to  amuse  you  during  a  fe  v  hours  of  your 
confinement  to  the  house ;  will  you  not  look  up  and 
tell  me  if  you  are  pleased  ? " 

With  a  little  sigh  of  relief  at  the  change  of  subject, 
she  glanced  down  at  the  book  she  held,  and  exclaimed 
as  the  title  met  her  eye :  "  Lucile  ?  Oh,  thank  you ! 
I  have  so  much  wished  to  peruse  it;  I  do  not  know  but 
1  BhaL  be  thankful  for  my  accident,  since  it  procurei 
meiuch  a  pleasure,"  and  she  looked  ip  grat€  folly,  and 


TBE  LANGUAGE  OF  FLOWEJBA  HI 

with  a  laugh  wholly  unembarrassed,  although  her  coii« 
fngion'B  sweet  blushes  still  lingered  on  her  cheeks. 

"  I  wonder  you  have  never  read  it  previously,  as  yon 
admire  the  author  so  much." 

"  I  had  no  opportunity  while  at  school,  and  supposing 
I  could  obtain  it  here,  I  neglected  to  purchase  one  in 
Boston.  But  when  I  reached  home,  I  found  it  was  not 
to  be  procured  in  Bristol.  I  intended  sending  to  Prov- 
idence for  it  soon." 

"  What  is  this  you  have  been  reading  ?  "  and  he  took 
from  the  talkie  a  book  similar  in  size  and  binding  to 
the  one  he  had  brought. 

"  Only  my  Wanderer  1 "  she  returned,  without  look- 
ing up,  and  glancing  eagerly  over  the  pages  of  the  book 
ihe  held. 

He  opened  it,  and  the  first  thing  that  caught  hit  ©ya 
was  the  inscription  traced  on  its  fly-leaf : 

"  To  Miss  Strawberry  Burton, 
from  her  devoted 

"  Bowow,  July  18—" 

Backward  flew  his  thoughts  to  that  lovely  evening 
not  yet  two  weeks  previous,  when  first  his  eyes  had 
dwelt  with  pleasure  on  the  lovely  face  of  his  compan- 
ion, lecalling  with  a  painful  thrill  the  merry  brown 
eyes  that  had  looked  with  such  audacious  mischief  in 
those  of  the  girl,  and  the  laughing  voice  which 
had  addressed  her  in  such  familiar  and  affectionat* 
tones.  "  Devoted"  to  her,  without  a  shadow  of  doubt^ 
was  the  gay  young  man;  but  was  hiA  vvident  attach 


lit  TEB  LANOUAOE  OF  rLOWSSB. 

m»ixi  to  the  girl  reciprocated,  or  was  it  with  frlendlj 
ejcfl  alone  that  she  met  the  impassioned  glances  of  bflf 
friend  i 

But  really,  what  was  it  to  him  in  either  case !  Why 
should  he  care  to  whose  heart  her  own  girlUh  one 
responded,  or  who  held  the  magic  key  to  the  store- 
house of  her  innocent  affections!  Not  a  brief  two 
weeks  had  elapsed  since  he  saw  her  first;  and  was  hia 
/leart  already  swelling  with  jealousy,  lest  some  other 
face  than  his  was  enshrined  in  the  holy  of  holies  of 
the  fair  girl's  mind?  That  heart  which  he  had  for 
Bo  long  deemed  impervious  to  all  emotions  of  love, 
desire,  regret  or  jealousy?  Had  this  little  girl,  with 
her  gentle  voice,  beguiled  his  peace  from  his  keeping ; 
with  her  soft,  fair  hand  struck  down  the  barriers  of 
coldness  or  distrust  that  the  past  years  of  treachery  had 
thickly  reared  around  the  inner  sanctuary  of  his  tor- 
tured soul  ? 

Alas  1  in  those  few  brief  moments  that  he  sat  with 
the  open  book  in  his  hand,  in  which  was  traced  ♦"he  in- 
scription that  had  so  startled  him,  he  had  lOoked  hi* 
future  in  the  face  ;  had  realized  that  with  a  life's  only 
love,  the  strong,  unconquerable  passion  of  mature  mAn- 
hood — to  which  the  loves  of  his  earlier  days  were  but 
as  a  zephyr's  breath  compared  to  the  might  of  a  tem- 
pest— he  worshipped  this  gentle  little  girl,  and  that  in 
all  probability  it  would  prove  as  hopeless  as  it  was  im- 
passioned. It  seemed  to  hira  impossible  that  she,  in 
all  the  flush  of  her  lovely  girlhood,  with  the  rich,  warm 
life  of  youth  bounding  strongly  and  sweetly  throngh 
ler  veina,  with  all  baf ore  her  the  bittei  -aweet  dnuxu 


TEE  LANGUAGE  OF  FLOWERS,  \\% 

•f  womanhood,  and  the  crowning  loveliness  of  a  sano- 
tified  and  reciprocal  attachment,  could  volnntarilj  be- 
•tow  a  thought  of  love  upon  him,  who  had  left  behind 
kim  his  own  long  faded  youth ;  or  ever  gladly  link  her 
own  bright,  joyous  life,  with  one  shadowed  by  a  past'a 
yet  nnconquered  sorrows,  and  the  "  harvest  of  barren 
regrets  "  which  he  had  reaped  from  the  carelessly  sown 
seed  of  his  early  manhood. 

What  was  there  in  common  between  them,  he  bitter 
ly  asked  of  himself  I  He,  a  man,  when  she,  an  nn« 
conscious  babe,  lay  cradled  in  her  mother's  arms :  he 
who  had  drained  the  cup  of  worldly  pleasure  almost 
to  the  very  dregs,  before  the  glittering  chalice  had 
reached  her  innocent  lips,  and  had  waded  far  through 
the  stream  of  aggravating  sorrow,  ere  her  dainty  feet 
had  touched  the  tiniest  waves  of  the  turbid,  swelling 
waters. 

No  1  a  life  like  his,  so  dark,  so  unattractive,  could 
hold  no  magic  to  draw  that  bright  one  from  her  own 
iear  home  of  peace  and  love.  She  would  doubtless 
£8ten  to  his  tale  of  a  strong,  o'ermastering  passion  wit!i 
pitying  kindness,  then  turn  aside  to  smile  with  heas'enly 
sweetness  on  one  who  was  yet  crowned  with  the  diadem 
of  youth  and  gayety,  and  could  respond  to  all  the  joy 
and  mirthf uluess  of  her  own  happy  heart. 

The  picture  stood  clearly  before  him.  Would  he  not 
6e  blindly  foolish  to  take  of  it  any  other  view  than 
this) 

Yes,  he  would  be  generous  ;  and  by  and  by,  after  he 
had  lingered  a  little  longer  in  the  sunshine  of  hei 
preflonce,  would  go  away,  without  distressing  the  tenJei 


180  TB^  LANGUAOE  OF  FLOWBRB. 

heart  of  the  girl  by  the  knowledge  that  the  wealth  of  9 
itroDg  man's  passionate  and  adoring  love  had  been  lav- 
ishly poured  upon  her  in  a  sweet  l)ut  "  a  wasted  shower.*' 

The  opening  door  and  Ilattio's  subsequent  entrance 
interrupted  his  train  of  painful,  self  sacrificing  thought, 
ixui  aroused  Berrie  to  a  consciousness  of  her  rudenoM 
XX  allowing  herself  to  become  so  absorbed  in  a  book,  to 
the  utter  neglect  of  her  visitor. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Adair  I "  she  said  deprecatingly, 
as  she  looked  up  with  a  little  sigh  of  regre<-  at  leaving 
the  fascinating  narrative.  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  been 
rudely  inattentive.  I  forgot  everything  but  'Lucile' 
and  the  result  of  her  letter  to '  Lord  Alfred,' "  laughingly. 

"  Did  you  ? "  with  a  little  pang  that  his  presence  waa 
of  so  little  moment  to  her.  "  Well,  I  was  so  absorbed 
in  this  little  book  I  hold,  that  I  did  not  notice  how  you 
were  occupied ;  so  I  do  not  see  that  there  is  aught  to 
excuse,  else  I  must  beg  for  forgiveness  also.  And  how 
is  Miss  Ilattie  this  evening  ?  "  taking  the  little  hand  of 
the  child  as  she  came  close  to  his  chair. 

"Oh,  I  am  well,  thank  you!"  with  a  toss  cf  the 
flowing  curls.  "  But  I  don't  think  you  took  very  good 
care  of  my  sister  Berrie  yesterday ;  did  you,  Mr.  Adair  f  ** 
archly  glancing  up  into  his  face. 

"  Didn't  I  ?  indeed !  ask  your  sister  what  she  thinki 
about  it,"  said  the  gentleman,  smiling. 

"  Ilattie  dear,  you  shouldn't  speak  bo  to  Mr.  Adair,'' 
reproved  Berrie. 

"  Oh,  Hattie  and  I  are  very  old  friends  Miss  Berrie, 
and  are  privileged  to  say  anything  we  like  to  each 
other ;  are  we  not,  little  one )  '* 


THE  LANOUAQB  OF  FLOWBBA,  IJi 

**  Hattie  is  a  spoiled  child  at  all  events,  I  am  afraid*" 
•aid  Berrie,  smiling  to  note  how  careful  he  was  to  sap* 
ply  the  fonnal  "  Miss "  when  others  were  present, 
though  since  their  scramble  over  the  rocks  the  previoua 
day,  he  had  never  used  it  when  they  were  alone 
together. 

"  Yea,  sir ;  I  suppose  we  are  I  "  returned  the  child  in 
answer  to  his  inquiry.  "  But,  Mr.  Adair,  have  you 
found  out  yet  what  sort  of  a  berry  my  sister  is?" 

Mr.  Adair  laughed,  and  gently  pulling  the  tempting 
ringlets  of  the  little  girl,  said ;  ''  So  you  have  not  for- 
gotten our  old  quarrel  as  yet  1  Well,  I  do  not  know 
that  I  have  come  to  any  decision  in  regard  to  the  mat- 
ter ;  can  you  not  help  me  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  /  think  she  is  a  strawberry,  if  anything,"  said  the 
child,  "  because  they  are  real  nice,  and  so  is  she,"  nest- 
ling up  to  her  sister's  side,  and  resting  her  head  caress- 
ingly against  Ben-ie's  shoulder, 

Mr.  Adair  thought  with  a  pang  of  the  merry  fellow 
who  thus  addressed  the  girl,  but  repressing  all  evidence 
of  it,  returned  :  "  Well,  I  do  not  deny  that  she  is  as  fair 
and  sweet  as  the  luscious  berry  you  have  named,  my 
little  girl,  but  still  I  think  holly-berries  most  suited  to 
her,  and  would  choose  them  for  her  emblem,  instead. 
Po  you  may  call  her  Strawberry  if  you  will,  and  I  will 
think  of  her  as  a  peerless,  beautiful  holly-berry." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Adair,  don't  you  think  hlack-berry  would 
be  more  suitable  still  ? "  inquired  Berrie  mischievously  ; 
but  blushing  at  this  flattering  discussion  of  her  in  her 
jery  presence. 

"  1  cannot  say  that  1  do  I"    he  retained,  langhing 


199  THE  LAN  a  U AGE  OF  FLOWEB& 

alio.  "  I  would  like  to  see  ycu  decked  and  crowned 
with  holly-berrie8,  they  would  became  you  tojk\\j7 
With  a  glance  of  undisguised  admiration. 

"  Come  and  eat  your  Christmas  dinner  with  us  then, 
and  poeeibly  you  may  be  gratified,"  interposed  Misi 
Burton  gaily,  coming  forward  at  that  moment,  she  hav- 
ing entered  the  room  unperceived  in  time  to  hear  the 
last  remark. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Burton  ;  it  would  give  me  more 
pleasure  than  I  can  say  to  do  so,  but  I  fear  that  ere 
that  I  shall  be  far  distant  from  here." 

"  Indeed  ?  I  am  very  sorry  1 "  returned  Belle,  quietly. 
"  Hattie,  ma  wants  yon." 

"  GK)od  night,  Berrie !  "  and  the  little  girl's  red  lipa 
were  pouted  to  receive  her  sister's  kiss. 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Adair  1 "  giving  him  her  hand,  and 
at  his  request  shyly  allowing  him  also  to  touch  her  lipa 
with  a  good-night  caress. 

"  Was  that  your  sister's  kiss  or  your  own  that  yon 
gave  me,  Hattie  1 "  he  murmured  so  low  that  no  one 
else  heard  the  inquiry. 

But  she  answered  aloud,  laughing  archly.  "  Oh, 
Berne's,  I  think,  Mr.  Adair  1 "  and  ran  lightly  from  the 
room. 

Belle  smiled,  half  guessing  what  had  elicited  Hattie'i 
reply,  and  the  conversation  became  general. 

Mr.  Adair,  at  their  request,  sang  for  them.  Belle 
playing  his  accompaniments,  and  early  arose  to  take 
his  departure. 

"  Good  evening.  Miss  Berrje ,  I  trust  you  vtiXi  be 
wholly  recovered  soon.    You  have  amusement  for  » 


TBE  LANOUAOB  OP  FLOWERB.  123 

few  tedious  hours  in  the  book  in  your  lap.  Yott  will 
find  it  a  rare  treat." 

**  I  am  sure  of  it  1  it  is  charming,  I  know,  and  I  ^nnk 
pa  io  much  for  bringing  it  to  me." 

*  I  owed  you  some  amends  for  not  taking  better  i  *!• 
of  you."  And  bidding  Miss  Burton  good-eyenii^,  ha 
hMtily  took  his  departure. 


OHAPTEK  Vm. 

A   BIGNIFIOANT  DEMONSTRA.'SlOSi. 

**  ObIj  a  klso — a  trifle  slight — 

Jnst  eager  lipq  one  xnoment  bleuti, 
■  Two  faces  lit  witti  Idr  dly  light, 

One  thrili  across  two  pal»efl  sent. 
How  small  &  thing  can  cnange  the  daj  1  * 


'*  In  her  book  of  life  a  new  leaf  had  been  tnmed ;  aud  as  she 
brooded  over  the  yet  unwritten  page,  her  heart  tremblod  at  thonght 
of  the  probable  reconi" 

T.  B.  Abthub 


,R.  ADAIR,  I  am  happy  to  return  you  your 
copy  of  '  Lucile,'  with  many,  many  thanks  to 
you  for  the  pleasure  its  perusal  has  given  me," 
■aid  Berrie,  as  she  entered  the  par'*>r  one  evening 
•bout  a  w«ek  later,  to  find,  as  she  expected,  ihe  gentle- 
man there. 

Het  recovery  from  the  eflFects  of  her  accident  hail 
been  rapid  and  entii-e,  and  it  was  with  her  usual  light 
and  graceful  step  that  she  entered  the  room.  The 
gentleman  addressed,  had,  during  her  oonfnemont  to 


A  BIGNIFICAITT  DEMONSTRATION.  126 

the  honse,  been  a  frequent  and  welcome  visitor ,  thni 
their  acquaintance  had  most  amicably  progressed,  and 
their  friendship  become  a  settled  thing. 

Many  an  ache  had  the  strong,  passionate  heart  of  Jit 
man  endured,  as  he  watched  the  lovely  girl,  and  real- 
ized that  it  would  be  folly  to  aspire  to  her  hand,  ques- 
tioning, even  should  she  listen  with  favor  to  his  suit,  if 
he  could  trust  the  future  constancy  of  one  whose  heart 
had  never  yet  been  tried,  and  whose  affection  for  him — 
did  it  exist — might  prove  but  a  passing  fancy,  a  roman- 
tic girl's  first  preference,  that  fleeting  emotion  which  so 
nearly  resembles  the  sweet  "  grand  passion,"  but  is  to 
that  as  the  rippling  waves  of  the  tiny  streamlet  are  to 
the  mighty  swellings  of  the  throbbing,  impulsive  sea. 

"  You  liked  it  then,  of  course  1 "  the  gentleman  re- 
turned smilingly,  in  answer  to  her  remark,  as  he  took 
the  book  from  her  hand. 

"  More,  far  more  than  I  can  tell  you  1  I  am  bankrupt 
for  words  to  express  my  admiration ! "  was  the  laughing, 
but  earnest  response.  "  I  thought  I  had  read  beautiful 
things  before,  but  nothing  to  compare  with  this.'* 

"  Not  even  your  favorite  '  Wanderer  1 '  " 

"  Not  even  that,  no  !  That  is  lovely  in  its  way,  and 
charms  with  its  very  vagueness,  had  it  no  other  at- 
tractions ;  but '  Lucile '  is  perfect  1  I  would  not  havo 
it  altered  I  think,  in  any  respect." 

"  What  an  enthusiastic  little  girl  you  are,  Berrie  1 " 
he  said  with  his  rarely  swaet  smile,  and  in  a  low  and 
almost  tender  tone. 

"  Am  I  ? "  she  laughed.  "  That  is  becauBe  1  am  u 
*little  girl'  I  Bupposc  is  it  not  t    Will  time  wear  away 


126  ^  BIONIFIOANl   DSMCNSTRATION. 

my  enthnsiasm,  do  jou  tliink,  my  friend?  "  with  snch 
%  bewitching  glance,  and  intonation  of  the  two  last 
words,  that,  had  they  been  alone  together,  I  con  Id  not 
have  answered  for  the  man's  self-control.  How  he 
longed  to  fold  in  his  arms  the  rounded,  girlish  form, 
and  press  with  love's  sweet  kisses  the  rosy,  smiling 
month  I 

But  he  only  answered  softly  and  a  little  sadly  :  "  I 
fear  it  may,  my  dear  little  girl ;  but  I  would  pray  most 
earnestly  that  it  may  never  be  damped  by  sorrow's 
heavy,  unrelenting  rain, — that  your  love  for,  and  joy 
in  the  beauties  of  music,  poetry,  and  nature,  may  never 
be  dimmed  by  life's  sternest,  bitterest  trials." 

"  Thanks  foryour  kind  wishes,"  she  murmured ;  "  but 
I  suppose  I  must  have  my  share  of  the  troubles  of  life. 
No  one  escapes  wholly,  do  they,  Mr.  Adair  ? " 

"  No  one,  my  child,  believe  me !  are  they  seemingly 
never  so  prosperous  and  happy.  '  Every  heart  knoweth 
its  own  bitterness,'  you  know.  So  you  think  '  Lucile ' 
quite  perfect,  do  you  ? "  he  concluded,  smiling. 

*'I  consider  it  so,  yesl  What  a  lovely  character  is 
^ers.     Do  you  not  think  so  ? " 

"  1  do,  indeed  I  Thoroughly  human,  yet  such  as  one 
rarely  meets.  But  wrr-ld  you  not  have  liked  it  better 
had  sne  married  the  Duke  ? " 

"  Oh  no  1  that  would  have  spoiled  her  character  en- 
tirely I '' 

"  But  he  loved  her  so  Tell,  and  with  her  royal  nature 
•he  could  have  been  so  true  to  him." 

"  Yes,  but  false  to  her  first  tnd  only  love.  How 
tovid  she  nuury  him,  not  caring  for  him  save  m  a  , 


A  BtONlFICANT  DJiiMONSTRATION.  127 

b  iend  1  Besides,  she  was  too  good  for  him ;  far  above 
lun  in  life  and  character.  1  did  feel  so  vexed,  when 
h*  was  taunting  her  with  being  the  cause  of  his  wasted 
life,  that  she  did  not  remind  him  of  how  he  had 
wrecked  her  happiness  as  well." 

"  Which  she  did  at  the  last  I " 

"  Yes,  but  only  in  sheer  desperation  at  his  f aUnre 
to  comply  with  her  wishes  for  Alfred's  son,  and  then 
merely  telling  him  that  but  for  him,  she  might  have 
been  pleading  for  her  own  boy  instead  of  another's." 

"  Do  you  like  Lord  Alfred — and  his  wife  ? " 

"  Not  over  well !  Matilda  was  Lucile's  rival,  and  I 
believe  I  was  a  little  jealous  for  her — "  smilingly, 
"besides,  she  has  too  little  force  of  character.  And 
Lord  Alfred  is  too  inconstant  and  suspicions.  I  have 
no  sympathy  for  him  in  any  sorrow.  He  was  not  worthy 
the  noble  woman  he  resigned  so  lightly,  not  only  once 
but  twice ;  while  she,  through  all,  was  true  and  constant 
to  her  love  for  him." 

"  Like  a  true  woman  ? "  smilingly. 

"  Like  a  true  woman,  yes ! "  she  replied  archly. 

''  Berrie,  have  you  those  elements  of  truth  and  con- 
stancy in  your  own  nature  ? "  he  asked  abruptly,  in  a 
tone  sc  low  that  no  one  else  could  have  distinguished 
the  words,  and  with  so  much  of  concentrated  earnest- 
ness in  eye  and  voice,  that  as  she  looked  up  half -startled, 
she  answered  hesitatingly : 

"Dlow  should  I  know?  I  have  never  been  tried; 
but,  Mr.  Adair,  I  believe  I  have  I  "  with  a  far-oflE  look 
in  the  uplifted  eyes,  as  if  she  was  atteir  pting  to  divixM 
the  tests  and  oonijiiests  of  the  fatore. 


1<M  ^  BlUHlFWAlfT  DEMOl^irnATIOlt. 

**  I  believe  it  too,  my  little  friend ! "  ho  returRed^ 
and  eyes  and  lips  smiled  his  gratification  in  the  belief, 

At  this  moment  Miss  Wardell  was  announced.  After 
•  time  she  inquired  abruptly :  "  Cy  the  way,  BeniOi 
did  you  know  your  old  friend,  Ella  Spencer,  was  mar- 
ried f  " 

"  No  indeed  1  is  that  so  1  to  Charley  Andrews!  " 

"Yes,  of  course  1  He  is  in  the  Navy,  you  know, 
and  received  orders  to  sail  the  very  day  appointed  for 
the  wedding  ;  so  they  were  married  about  an  hour  bo- 
fore  he  left." 

"  She  remaining  at  home  ? " 

"  Yes  1  He  thought  he  would  secure  her,  I  suppoie, 
lest  some  one  else  should  take  his  place  before  bis  re- 
turn," laughingly. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  should  care  to  marry  one  I  could 
not  trust  better  than  that.  H  she  was  capable  of  being 
inconstant  to  him,  she  could  not  make  him  a  desirable 
wife,"  said  Berrie. 

"  You  think,  Miss  Beme,  that  if  she  loved  him  she 
could  not  have  been  untrue — that  absence  would  make 
BO  difference  ?  "  Mr.  Adair  asked  a  little  eagerly. 

**  I  tldnk  so,  yes  I  "  returned  Berrie,  blushing. 

**  As  1  do  also  I  "  he  said,  earnestly  and  bitterly. 

'•  You  are  forgetting  vour  book,  Mr.  Adair,"  laid 
lierrie,  as  he  was  leaving  the  room  somewhat  later  in 
the  evening. 

"  Surely ! "  he  returned,  taking  it  from  the  table,  and 
after  a  moment's  hesitation  again  layiug  it  down,  say- 
ing carelessly  as  he  turned  to  the  door,  "  You  may  ai 
well  keep  it,  Berrie,  I  have  another  copy  at  home,"  and 


A  aiONIFICAIfT  DEMONanUTIOM.  191 

iguerlag  her  eouf  aiedly  miirDmred  thanks,  kt  haitllj 
took  his  leave. 

Several  weeks  passed  rapidly  along,  dlTeraified  by 
engagements  and  amusements  of  various  kinds,  suited 
to  the  place  and  season,  and  making  this  summer  to 
the  lively  girl  the  happiest  of  her  brief,  sunshiny  life. 
And  yet  it  was  a  happiness  somewhat  fitful  and  fever- 
ish, full  of  restlessness,  gayety  and  excitement. 

Messrs.  Wright  and  Adair  still  lingered  in  the  lovely 
old  town,  and  were,  as  usual,  frequent  visitors  at  the 
Burton  mansion ;  and  though  the  latter  was  ever  a 
welcome  guest,  a  favored  escort,  it  would  not  be  sup- 
posed that  he  alone  paid  court  to  the  pretty  girl,  or 
attended  her  to  the  entire  exclusion  of  other  and 
younger  men.  He  did  not  himself  expect  it;  and 
though  he  gazed  at  her  with  longing  eyes,  and  suffered 
tortures  of  jealous  pain  as  she  coquetted  with  other  of 
her  gentlemen  acquaintances,  no  thought  of  censure  or 
hardness  toward  her  dimmed  the  brightness  of  his  love 
for  her,  no  word  of  unkindness  or  coldness  ever  passed 
his  lips  to  one  who  thus  played  with  the  happiness  of 
a  heart  whose  every  pulsation  answered  to  her  magic 
rule  alone.  Outwardly  calm  and  serene,  ever  m  his 
bearing  to  her  the  tender,  gentle  friend,  he  had  sue 
ceeded  in  persuading  her,  at  least,  if  he  had  not  him 
self,  that  only  thoughts  and  feelings  of  friendly  regard 
actuated  him,  that  only  a  friend's  indifferent  place 
could  she  ever  occupy  in  a  heart  whose  aspirationa 
evidently  could  but  reach  far  above  her  humble  self. 

That  ehe  loved  him,  she  did  not  acknowledge  even 
to  her  own  heart;   nor  did  she  attempt  to  analyze 


130  ^  8WNIF1CANT  DEM0NSTRA2S0N. 

th«  feeling  of  perfect  content  and  happiness  wLidk  iht 
experienced  in  liis  presence,  or  the  restlessness  and 
vague  disatisfaction  that  she  felt  when  others  claimed 
hei  attention  and  smiles.  Coquet  as  she  might  wiLb 
those  who  gathered  around  her,  bright  as  was  her 
«:nile  and  gay  her  retort  to  others'  lively  sallies,  it  wai 
with  a  subdued  but  thrilling  pleasure  that  she  turned 
from  them  to  him,  to  read  in  his  kindly  eyes  the  tender 
regard  for  her  that  never  wavered,  to  feel  that  in  him 
ihe  had  ever,  as  he  had  pledged  himself  to  be,  a  true 
and  tender  fr.end.  And  yet  she  turned  from  him 
also,  sometimes,  with  a  sigh  of  vague  and  undefined 
regret,  whose  occasion  she  could  not  herself  have  ex- 
plained,— a  sense  of  something  wanting,  a  distance  or 
coolness  in  his  bearing  to  her  that  chilled  and  disap- 
pointed her.  She  did  not  dream  that  the  icy  manner 
which  so  wounded  her  sensitive  heart,  was  but  the 
snowy  crust  that  concealed  below  the  raging  fires  of  a 
living  volcano ;  but  the  calmness  which  hid  the  utter 
blackness  of  a  hopeless  despair ; — that  it  that  very 
moment  he  was  longing  with  almost  unconquerable 
vehemence  to  take  her  to  his  passionate  heart,  and 
murmur  in  her  ear  all  the  vast  wealth  and  power  of  the 
love  for  her  whose  outward  repression  was  sapping 
the  vital  forces  of  his  grand  and  noble  heart,  and  giv- 
ing to  his  manner  a  distance  and  coldness  which  could 
alone  conceal  the  struggle  and  triuirph  that  was  daily 
and  almost  hourly  renewed  ; — had  not  learned  aa  yet 
to  "  so  read  that  straLga  book,  man's  heart,  sis  to  recc^- 
nize  in  his  self-control  the  strongest  evidence  of  hia 
tn'e,  and  her  power." 


*  SIGNIFICANT  DEMONSTRATION.  ISl 

2u  vJv  w>e  Uya  she  could  uot  reason — could  not  discoM, 
%«*«n  m  her  oi\'n  mind,  the  motives  and  acts  of  others— 
ooald  only  ft^cl;  and,  blindly  swayed  by  impulse, 
guwded,  as  well  as  might  be,  by  maidenly  reticence,  by 
laughing  repartee,  by  reckless  gayety,  the  inner  sanc- 
tuary of  her  soul,  which  was,  even  to  herself,  a  chasm 
filled  only  with  chaos  and  disorder. 

Intimate  as  was  their  acquaintance,  frequent  as  was 
their  friendly  intercourse,  she  could  never  hear  his 
name  without  a  provoking  rush  of  crimson  to  her  tell- 
tale cheek,  could  never  meet  his  glance  without  a 
drooping  of  her  o  vni  dusky  eyes,  never  feel  the  pres- 
iure  of  his  manly  hand  without  an  answering  thrill 
which  tingled  from  her  linger-tips,  through  every  fibre 
of  her  being.  Others,  though  more  attentive,  far 
more  eager  for  her  favors,  treating  her  with  much  more 
of  flattering  deference,  and  evidencing  far  greater  anx- 
iety for  her  regard  than  did  he,  had  not  the  slightest 
power  over  her  passions  or  impulses,  could  not  touch 
with  one  vibrating  thrill  the  innermost  recesses  of  her 
royal  nature,  or  win  from  her  a  single  concession  to 
their  pleas  for  unwonted  favors. 

Of  the  time  when  her  friend  should  leave  her,  she 
did  not  allow  herself  to  think.  That  such  a  time  must 
come  she  knew  full  well ;  but  putting  far  from  her 
the  evil  day,  she  glided  on,  with  no  thought  but  for  the 
present  moment,  no  desire  save  for  the  happiness  and 
pleasure  of  the  day. 

But  a  time  of  awakening  was  at  hand  1  Mr.  Adair 
was  sitting,  late  one  evening,  after  his  return  fro!ii  a 
risit  to  her,  in.  the  reading-room  of  his  hotel,  carelessly 


XM'         ^  BTaNIFICANT  LEMOXSTRATIOW. 

glftncifig  through  the  columns  of  a  Providence  siening 
paper,  when  one  of  the  boarders,  a  somewhat  intimate 
acquaintance,  entered,  and  taking  a  Beat  near  him, 
commenced  a  careless  conversation  on  the  topics  of  tha 

Neither  was  very  much  interested  that  evening  in 
the  subjects  they  were  discussing,  and  the  conversation 
was  flagging  somewhat,  when  after  an  indolent  yawn, 
the  man  inquired  abruptly,  and  laughing  archly,  "  Well, 
Adair,  when  is  it  to  be  ? " 

"  When  is  what  to  be  ? "  he  returned  in  ■nrpriia, 
glancing  up  at  his  interlocutor. 

"  What  ?  why  the  wedding,  to  be  sure  1 " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you  1  I  have  heard  of  no  pro(»« 
pective  wedding  of  late." 

"  Why,  when  is  Miss  Berrie  Burton  to  be  married  1 " 

The  man's  proud  heart  stood  still  for  a  moment  in 
consternation  and  deadly  pain,  but  he  answered  calmly, 
"  I  do  not  know,  indeed  1  How  should  I  ?  You  will 
have  to  ask  some  one  else  besides  me." 

"  Why,  Adair  I  I  am  sure  you  ought  to  know,  if  any 
one,"  his  friend  returned  laughingly. 

"  I  cannot  see  why  I  " 

"Why,  haven't  I  been  hearing  from  all  aorti  of 
sources,  that  you  were  paying  her  particular  attention ; 
and  heard  this  and  that  one  of  the  fellows  grumbling, 
that  they  stood  no  chance  at  all  with  the  girl  when  that 
proud  Adair  was  around  ?  that  he  was  evidently  th« 
favored  suitor,  etc.  etc  ?  I  suppose  the  day  isn't  »ct 
jet ;  eh,  Eugene  ? " 

"  I  lappoae  it  i«  not,  a«  far  an  I  am  oooearnAd,*  kt 


A  BIONirWANT  DBJiONSJUATIOW.  IM 

anf  wered  gravely,  "  and  probably  never  will  J>«.  I 
have  no  reason  to  tliink  myself  preferred  by  the  young 
lady,  and  have  no  intention  of  marrying  any  one,  at 
least  for  the  present.  So  do  not  mention  the  lady*! 
name  in  connection  with  mine  again,  if  you  pleaMk 
Blie  is  too  young  to  be  talked  of  in  that  manner,  and  it 
will  do  her  no  good.  I  am  going  to  Washington  in  a 
few  days,  and  expect  to  go  abroad  in  October,"  and 
bidding  his  friend  good-night,  he  retired  to  his  room — 
but  not  to  sleep. 

Back  and  forth  in  the  large  apartment  he  paced,  hii 
arms  folded  behind  him,  his  head  bent  on  his  chest  in 
deep  and  bitter  revery,  reviewing  the  unpleasant  scenei 
of  the  past,  revolving  the  prospects  of  the  future,  and 
with  the  facts  and  fancies  of  the  present  staring  him  in 
the  face,  until  the  grey  dawn  of  the  morning  peeped 
shyly  through  the  half-closed  blinds ;  then  throwing 
himself  in  a  chair  by  the  table,  he  bent  his  head  on  his 
folded  arms,  while  tempests  of  hard,  convulsive  sighs 
shook  his  manly  breast. 

During  the  troubled  hours  of  that  weary  night,  he 
had  recalled  in  fancy's  light  every  episode  of  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  little  girl  who  had  beguiled  hii 
heart  from  his  keeping  ;  every  word,  look  or  tone  that 
could  evince  a  perference  for,  or  aversion  to  him ;  at- 
tempting to  judge  dispassionately  of  his  chances  with 
her,  of  the  probability  that  her  affection  for  him  wai  a 
true  and  perfect  love,  which  could  stand  any  test  of 
■ilence,  absence,  or  other  trial,  which  the  circumstaneef 
of  the  future  might  impose.  For,  well  as  he  loved  her, 
seoesaarj  as  she  seemed  to  his  happiness,  he  yet  eh«» 


134  A  8iaNTl\J^^l    JEMOySTEATIOir. 

uhed  a  alight  distrust  ol'  h«^  >ower8  of  corut&nej,  i 
shrinking  fear  lest  if  he  should  s.^cceec  in  winning  the 
prize  he  coveted,  it  might  prove  tv  him  a  bane,  rathei 
than  a  blessing.  Nor  could  one  vfbo  knew  his  past, 
blame  him  for  that.  Its  trials  and  expt-riences  had  not 
been  such  as  to  teach  him  faith,  either  in  xian's  friend- 
ihip  or  woman's  constancy. 

At  last  his  resolve  was  taken  !  He  would  ipend  one 
more  evening  in  her  society,  mark  every  aUion  and 
word  of  hers,  attempt  to  divine  the  nature  of  htr  feel- 
ings for  him,  to  rate  the  degree  of  his  influenco  over 
her,  the  chances  of  his  success  as  a  suitor  for  her  hand, 
and  then  to  act  accordingly.  Did  he  see  aught  to  ou- 
courage  such  a  step,  he  would  tell  her  of  his  love,  ex- 
plain the  prospects  of  the  future,  attempt  to  make  her 
understand  what  trials  a  reciprocity  of  his  affection 
might  impose  upon  her,  and  if  she  could  respond  to  hia 
passion,  and  was  willing  to  bide  whatever  consequences 
it  might  bring,  he  would  bless  God  for  the  precious 
gift,  and  trust  in  His  hands  the  happiness  of  the  future. 
But  if,  on  the  contrary,  he  should  see  nothing  in  her 
bearing  to  him  to  warrant  such  a  step,  or  should  she 
refuse  to  listen  with  favor  to  his  plea,  he  would  go 
away,  and  in  a  fore'gn  land  steel  his  heart  to  endure 
one  more  disappointment,  the  bitterest  and  cruelest  of 
all  his  wretched  life. 

To  endure^  not  to  conquer  and  forget  1     Alas  I   that 

is  a  task  which  no  heart  that  has  once  been  taught  a 

lesson  of  true  and  enduring  love,  can  ever  perfectl;^ 

earn.     Time  may  ease  a    ittle  the  sharpness  of  the 

primary  pain,  1  all,  with  the  charms  of  other  scenes  and 


A  SIGNIFICANT  DEMONSTRATION.  13i 

Other  inierests,  the  tempest  of  the  first  great  ar guiib, 
but  there  will  still  be  days  when  the  record  of  the  paat 
shall  perforce  be  backward  read,  wlien  the  waves  of  the 
old  stream  of  sorrow  shall  surge  irresistibly  over  the 
levees  which  Time  and  Will  have  built  to  guard  the 
eitadel  of  the  heart  from  tlie  power  of  the  undermin 
ing  waters,  and  the  howling  tempest  of  desolation  ahaL 
rao'e  with  renewed  violence  around  the  closely  aarred 
windows  of  the  poor,  weak  human  soul. 

Perchance  a  casual  word  once  familiar  to  the  loved 
one's  lips,  perhaps  a  strain  of  music,  fraught  with  the 
old  perilously  sweet  associations,  or  the  perfume  of  a 
simple  flower,  whose  fragrance  almost  intoxicated  us  in 
the  old  bewitching  days  of  happiness,  may  waken  the 
•ririt  of  recollection,  and  annihilate  all  the  hardly  won 
serenity  of  the  present  days,  all  the  fancied  conquests 
of  the  old,  old,  desolating  pain. 

The  day  wore  wearily  on,  and  evening  found  him 
again  in  the  parlors  of  the  Burton  house.  Berrie  re- 
ceived him  with  her  usual  shy  cordiality,  but  other 
visitors  were  present,  and  it  chanced  she  had  that  day 
been  so  unmercif ally  rallied  on  her  preference  for  the 
handsome  Eusrene,  that  with  a  woman's  natural  desire 
to  prove  their  surmises  false,  and  instinctive  wish  to 
shield  from  sight  the  prelt;  --^-nces  or  passions  of  her  girl- 
ish heait,  althouo-h  she  treated  him  with  her  usual 
politeness,  never  during  the  progress  of  their  acquaint- 
ance had  she  manifested  so  much  indifference  to  hira, 
betrayed  in  her  manner  so  much  of  reserve  or  distance 
as  on  this  evening.  In  vain  he  attempted  to  draw  hei 
l|ito  conversation;  giving  to  hia  remarks  only  mono 


IM  Ji  BIGNIFICANJ  DEMONSinAJTOW. 

vjVia^3A&  replies,  ehe  turned  from  him  with  evident  rvllel' 
whenever  ghe  was  addressed  bj  others.  At  last  he 
j;»v©  it  up,  and  witli  bucIi  pangs  of  pain  as  few  ever  ex- 
perienced, told  himself  that  his  fate  was  decided,  and 
that  it  would  be  indeed  utter  folly  to  make  to  her  an/ 
further  advances. 

Poor  little  girl  1  the  did  not  dream  how  much  whm 
pending  on  the  a«ts  of  that  one  evening  :  that  all  her 
future  happiness  was  hanging  in  the  balance,  and  one 
touch  from  her  careless,  impulsive  finger  might  turn 
the  scales  in  favor  of  future  wretchedness  and  despair. 
— Did  not  know  that  she  had  almost  been  crowned  with 
the  offered  love  of  one  her  heart  esteemed  above  all 
others,  and  by  her  acted  coldness  had  cast  it  from  her 
— never  to  be  regained  ?     We  shall  see  1 

Mr.  Adair  early  took  his  departure,  and  was  the  fiitt 
to  leave.  Berrie  at  the  time  was  absent  from  the  room, 
but  chancing  to  return  at  the  moment  he  was  taking 
his  hat  from  the  rack,  met  him  in  the  hall. 

"  What  1  going  so  soon,  Mr.  Adair?  "  she  said  gaily, 
realising  with  a  feeling  of  profound  relief,  that  for  the 
moment  no  curious  eyes  of  others  were  upon  her,  mark- 
ing every  word  and  look. 

*'  Yes,  go'ng!"  he  returned  smiling,  although  some- 
what sadly.  "  Wliy  should  I  not  ?  Besides,  I  have 
■ome  writing  which  must  be  done  this  evening.  Good- 
night, my  little  friend  !  "  with  a  lingering  emphasis  on 
the  ^*st  words,  and  extending  his  hand  in  farewell. 

*'  Q-ood-night,  if  you  must  go  I "  Bhe  returned  softly, 
and  a  little  regretfully,  placing  her  hand  in  his. 

Qa  held  14  for  a  moment  >n  !i>oth  his  own,  looking 


A  SIGNlFlOAyi  DEMON BTRATTOW.  181 

down  at  her  with  eyes  that  told  a  tale  which  would  nol 
be  repressed,  and  compelling,  bj  force  of  magnetic  »t« 
traction,  the  shy,  conscious  ejes  of  the  girl  to  meet  th« 
thrilling  glance  of  his.  With  cheeks  flushed  to  a  vivid 
crimson,  lips  that  parted  to  emit  the  panting  breath,  a 
trembling  form,  and  eyes  filled  to  overflowing  with  a 
passion  to  which  she  had  never  given  a  name,  sha 
looked  np  to  the  equally  conscious  face  of  her  compan* 
ion. 

An  eloquence  so  bewitching,  an  agitation  so  fascinat- 
ing, a  beauty  so  warm  and  brilliant,  was  more  than  the 
man,  in  his  state  of  mind  and  heart,  could  withstand. 
With  a  sudden  motion  he  dropped  the  little  hand  ha 
held,  drew  the  trembling  form  within  his  close  em- 
brace, and  pressing  with  passionate  kisses  the  tempting 
lips  of  the  girl  he  adored,  he  murmured  in  the  low  and 
tender  tones  which  love  teaches  to  the  human  voice, 
"  God  bless  you,  my  peerless  Berrie !  "  released  her  aa 
iuddenly  as  he  had  clasped  her,  turned  to  the  open 
door,  and  was  gone, — shut  fi-om  her  sight  bj  the  cur- 
tains of  darkness  that  fell  behind  him. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  where  he  had  left  her,  tremb- 
ling with  the  consciousness  of  a  new  happiness,  with 
the  memory  of  the  scene  enacted  but  a  moment  before ; 
realizing  with  regret  that  other  guests  were  in  the  par 
lor,  demanding  her  presence  and  attention,  and  feeling, 
with  shrinking  sensitiveness,  that  she  could  not  go  in  at 
present  and  show  them  a  face  beaming  with  her  new- 
found happiness,  and  flushed  with  the  rosy  dyes  which 
the  magnetic  glance  of  her  "  friend  "  had  called  there 
With  a  soft  and  silent  step  she  ran  lightly  np  the  staira 


138  ^  SIGNIFICANT  DEMONSTRATION. 

and  eat  down  for  a  moment  by  the  open  wicdow  of  hef 
darksned  chamber,  burjang  her  face  in  her  trembling 
hAnds,  and  endeavoring  to  calm  the  riotous  pu  fees  of  a 
heart  which  had  this  evening  been  stirred  to  its  very 
depths 

This,  then,  was  what  it  all  meant  I  Not  the  cool,  even 
pulsations  of  friendship,  but  the  hot,  impulsive  throb- 
biiigs  of  an  o'crmjistering  love.  Not  the  tranquil  calm- 
ness of  indifference,  but  the  tumultuous  restlessness  of 
awakened  and  all- potent  affection. 

Tes,  she  loved  him  1  loved  him  with  all  the  poetry, 
power  and  passion  of  her  sensitive  nature.  Loved  him 
with  an  affection  which  should  never  know  shadow  of 
change  or  diminution  ;  which  should  but  increase,  and 
become  more  and  more  deep,  sweet  and  enduring,  as 
the  passing  years  should  glide  swiftly  along. 

Of  course  she  believed  it  to  be  so  I  Who,  under  the 
spell  of  the  divine  passion,  does  not  ?  Who,  however 
fickle  may  be  their  natures,  would  confess,  in  the  first 
flush  of  acknowledged  affection,  that  it  were  possible 
they  could  change ;  that  the  emotions  which  were 
thrilling  them  to  the  very  heart's  core  could  grow 
fainter  and  fainter,  until  they  were  lost  in  the  former 
calm  of  indifferent  friendship.  Few  natures  are  capa- 
ble of  a  love  that  can  stand  any  test ; — silence,  absence, 
coldness,  distrust,  estrangement,  indifference,  or  con- 
tempt Was  hers  such  an  one?  Time  alone  would 
•how. 

Her  sister's  voice  calling  her  from  the  hall  below, 
aroused  her  to  a  sense  of  the  matter-of-fact  things  ol 
the  present,  and  answering  that  she  would  be  dowp 


i  BIQNIFTGANT  DEMONBTRATIOW.  139 

immediately,  she  lii^lilcd  the  gas,  gmoothed  hsr  tck^ 
bled  ringlets,  bathed  her  still  flashed  cheeks,  and  tftei 
a  moment  passed  slowly  down  the  stairs. 

How  her  life  had  changed  since  she  stood  last  with.'* 
that  familiar  room  1  how  sweet  and  significant  it  ha^ 
become,  bright  and  fair  with  the  hopes  of  a  newly  ac 
knowledged  love.  IIow  could  she  tolerate  these  com 
mon-place  people  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening  1 
"  Music,  music  !  "  was  the  cry  as  she  entered  the  room, 
and  without  a  remonstrance  she  submitted  to  be  led  to 
the  piano,  relieved  that  thus  she  could  entertain  the 
friends  whom  she  felt  it  were  impossible  to  talk  to  with 
any  degree  of  connected  and  coherent  conversation. 

Mechanically  she  sang  and  played  whatever  waa 
called  for,  while  ever  before  her  was  a  face  eloquent  of 
a  strong  but  undeclared  passion,  and  the  echo  to  all  her 
songs  was  the  tender  "  God  bless  yon,"  of  the  man  she 
loved. 

As  for  him,  with  his  thoughts  all  in  a  tumult,  with 
hib  future  course  more  than  ever  undecidcJ,  he  reached 
his  hotel  to  find  a  despatch  awaiting  him,  demanding 
his  immediate  presence  in  Washington.  Hastily  pack- 
ing some  necessary  garments  in  his  portmanteau,  pre- 
paratory to  an  early  start  in  the  morning,  he  quickly 
disrobed,  and,  not  forgetting  to  thank  the  A.Mthor  of  all 
good  for  the  blessings  of  the  day,  was  speedily  seeking 
the  repose  which  he  so  much  needed. 

But  to  him,  as  well  as  one  other  in  that  peaceful 
towii  that  balmy  summer  night,  sleep  was  a  coy  and 
miwilling  guest ;  and  in  the  broken  slumbers  of  the  on« 
mingled  a  fair  and  sweetly  flushing  face,  betraying  th« 


140  A.  BIQNIFICANT  DEJfONSTRATIOJT. 

]cm  it  had  hitherto  guarded  so  well,  and  in  the  fleetlo^ 
dreama  of  the  other  manly  lips  took  sndden,  but  Dot 
niiwilling  kisses  from  a  trembling  mouth,  and  a  tendef 
voice  murmured  words  of  fond  endearment  to  one 
whose  heart  gave  an  instant  and  eloquent  response 
To  the  one  it  was  the  dawning  of  a  girl's  first  sweet 
drean?  of  love  !  To  the  other  it  was  the  fnution  of  • 
■uui'g  mAtur«  and  over-mastering  pasaicm. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HAPPINESS — DI8APPOINTMKHT. 

"  What  more  f  Life's  problenu  are  alwajB  anftniohed.  Wbaii  • 
rtraln  of  m^uac  is  broken  off  in  the  middle,  we  carrj'  It  aboat  Ih  oo* 
hearts  for  days  together,  and  marvel  at  its  fancied  sweetoAM.  Had 
It  been  ftlUied,  we  might  have  forgotten — who  knows  ?  " 

A.  M.  DoXTOLJbM. 

<*  inil  he  not  oome?  oh,  will  he  nerer  come  P 
I  loTsd  him  so — ^he  hath  forgotten  me." 

J.  0.  Bmtw—. 

ITH  the  happy  consciousness  of  something 
pleasant  having  occurred  on  the  previous  day, 
Berrie  opened  her  eyes  upon  the  golden  light 
of  another  morning,  and  then,  as  the  magic  waves  of 
recollection  rolled  over  her  soul,  flooding  it  with  sweet 
waters,  she  pillowed  her  flushed  cheek  in  her  hand,  and 
with  closed  eyes  and  smiling  lips,  reviewed  the  eventi 
of  the  preceding  evening,  wh'ie  every  nerve  thrilled 
with  a  flew  delight,  as  she  ireealled  the  impassionei 
demonstration  of  her  hitherto  reserved  acquaintance; 
thrilled  with  the  consciousness  of  the  reciprocal  pattioa 
which  filled  to  overflowing  her  tender,  youthfo]  haart, 


148  EAPPINESS-DISAPrOINTMENT. 

— that  first  young  dream  of  love  which  it  indeed  »• 
passing  sweet. 

Again  she  felt  the  touch  of  his  bearded  lips  npon 
her  own,  and  seemed  to  hear  still  ringing  it.  her  ear* 
hifl  t«nd«r,  heart-full  "  God  bless  you  1 ''  «A  he  released 
her  in\>UL  liis  clasp,  and  vanished  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night.  Then  pictured  to  herself  his  next  coming;  the 
words  that  could  but  follow  what  was  so  sigtiificant, 
the  perfect  delight  of  a  fully  reciprocal  attachment. 
Longing  for  the  hour  that  she  felt  certain  would  bring 
him,  yet  shrinking  with  maidenly  modesty  and  diffi 
dence  from  the  first  embarrassing  moments  which  mirit 
succeed  their  next  meeting,  and  blushing  to  the  very 
roots  of  her  beautiful  hair,  here,  all  alone  by  herself j 
at  thought  of  being  wooed  in  lover-fashion  by  this  man 
whom  she  so  much  esteemed  aud  admired. 

Never  doubting  for  an  instant,  in  the  guileless  trust 
of  her  unsuspecting  heart,  which  was  yet  untainted  with 
experiences  of  deceit,  yet  untaught  in  lessons  of  distrust 
and  disappointment,  that  the  shades  of  evening  would 
bring  him  to  her  side  to  complete  the  thrilling  story  so 
eloquently  begun  the  previous  night ;  never  distrusting 
for  a  moment  the  purity  and  earnestness  of  the  affec- 
tion whose  first  expression  had  shaken  her  being  to  its 
Ycrj  core,  and  robbed  her  of  the  last  vestige  of  careless, 
nnconscious  girlhood,  crowning  her  in  a  single  moment 
with  the  diadem  of  perfected  womanhood — that  golden 
wreath  of  "  bitter-sweets  "  which  is,  alas  1  so  often  bane- 
ful as  well  as  beautiful. 

The  day  dragged,  but  not  wearily  ;  the  hours  moved 
•o  slowly  onward  that  the  previous  night  seemed  to  bfl 


HAPPINESS-   \>ISAPPOINTMENT.  143 

far  back  in  the  sheaves  of  the  reaper  Time,  but  happy 
anticipation  brightened  every  one  as  they  passed,  and 
tent  to  eye  and  lip  a  new  brilliance  and  beauty. 

More  than  once  her  sister  remarked  :  "  What  ha« 
come  over  you  to-day,  Berrie  ?  you  look  as  if  you  -w  ere 
brimming  over  with  happiness."  And  each  time  she 
laughed  an  embarrassed  little  laugh,  and  changed  the 
Bubject,  or  ran  hastily  away.  It  chanced  to  be  a  very 
busy  day  to  both  of  them,  therefore  there  was  really 
little  opportunity  for  confidential  conversation,  until, 
as  night  fell,  they  met  in  the  parlor  to  welcome  and 
entertain  whoever  might  chance  to  call. 

My  reader,  if  you  are  a  woman,  doubtless  you  still 
remember,  be  it  ever  so  far  back  in  the  annals  of  the 
past,  with  what  emotions  of  tremulous  pleasure  you 
arrayed  yourself  in  dainty  and  beautiful  robes  in  an- 
ticipation of  the  coming  of  one  you  loved,  in  the  early 
days  of  acknowledged  or  unacknowledged  attachment, 
before  familiarity  had  led  to  carelessness,  accustomed 
intercourse  had  worn  away  the  charm,  or  security  had 
diminished  your  scrupulour.ness  to  use  every  art  to  ren- 
der yourself  attractive  to  the  man  you  loved. 

Doubtless  yovi  stLll  recollect  how  you  stood  with  fin- 
ger on  your  lip.  and  head  bent  thoughtfully,  delibera- 
ting which  of  two  beoutiful  dresses  would  become  you 
best,  which  vvould  eii]i»j)ce  or  detract  from  your  beauty, 
in  which  your  expeotcd  visitor  would  admire  you  most. 
How,  minute  by  minute,  you  stood  before  the  mirror, 
calculating  effects ;  ho  w  carefully  and  becomingly  your 
abundant  tresses  we/e  arranged  ;  with  what  trembling 
angers  you  placed  the  flowers  in  coiffure  or  corsagei 


144  HAPPlNES8-LIBAPlX)TNTMEirF. 

and  itoppcd  back,  with  smiling  lips  and  ejm,  to  ooo- 
template  a  whole  you  had  spent  so  much  of  time  and 
thought  to  render  attractive ;  perhaps  feeling  with 
•iskening  disappointment  that  no  arts  of  the  toilet 
eonld  make  you  beautiful,  or  trium  j>hing  in  a  lovelincM 
which  was  never  more  regally  grand  or  delicately  fair 
than  then  ;  and  finding  at  last  that  if  there  was  tni« 
and  mutual  love  it  did  not  matter  whether  your  dower 
was  queenly  beauty  or  plebeian  plaimiess  of  figure  and 
feature. 

Thus,  I  need  not  tell  you  with  what  deliberate  care 
and  tremulous  pleasure  Miss  Berne's  toilet  was  made, 
on  what  she  considered  would  be  to  her  so  eventful  an 
evening,  or  how  sweet  and  lovely  she  looked  in  the 
flowing  dress  of  white  which  was  at  length  chosen ;  her 
only  ornaments  delicate  clusters  of  tube-roses,  which 
fragrant  beauties,  relieved  by  trailing  sprays  of  myr- 
tle, nestled  in  her  perfect  hair,  and  on  the  bosom  of 
her  low-cut  gossamer  dress.  She  needed  no  color  to 
impart  rosy  flushes  to  her  rounded  cheek,  for  expec- 
tant Jjove  had  touched  it  with  his  dimpling  finger,  and 
dyed  it  with  the  warmest  and  brightest  of  his  roseate 
hues. 

It  was  BCiurcely  seven  o'clock  when  she  entered  the 
parlor  in  her  pretty  evening  dress,  and  seated  lierself 
at  the  piano  to  while  away  the  time  until  her  friend 
should  arrive ;  lijtle  gnessing  that  though  in  thought 
he  was  indeed  with  her^  yet  in  person  he  was  many, 
many  noiles  distant,  while  she  with  impatient  heart* 
beatjs  awaited  his  coming. 

He  thought  of  her,  it  is  true ;  be  would  fain  hare 


BAFFIN  ESly-DISAPPOINTMENT.  \4k 

bMn  with  her  as  on  the  previous  erening ;  yet  prob- 
•bly  had  he  been  permitted  to  visit  her,  the  words  that 
■he  expected  to  hear  might,  as  then, have  still  remained 
nneaid.  He  was  too  skilled  in  ways  of  the  world,  and 
of  women  in  particular,  to  attach  much  meaning  to 
fche  pretty  agitation  she  had  betrayed  in  the  few  mo- 
ments that  they  were  alone  together ;  and  some  more 
convincing  proof  of  her  preference  for  him,  he  told 
himself  he  must  have,  ere  he  could  risk  a  refusal  of 
his  suit.  He  regretted  that  he  had  allowed  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moment  to  betray  him  into  such  a  pas- 
eionate  demonstration,  but  what  was  past  could  not  be 
recalled — he  would  try  to  be  more  self-contained  in 
future,  and  after  all,  doubtless  she  thought  no  more  of 
it  than  did  he. 

Alas  1  what  is  so  much  to  a  woman  is  often  of  snch 
slight  importance  to  the  opposite  sex  I  Love,  which  Ib 
to  her  a  necessity,  is  often  to  him  merely  a  relaxation  ; 
and  tender  demonstrations  of  affection,  which  mean  so 
much  to  her,  which  are  the  food,  the  very  life  of  her 
heart,  are  to  him  but  a  "  thing  apart "  from  his  daily 
existence, — a  moment's  yielding  to  a  passion  which 
has  frequently  neither  depth  nor  sincerity.  Too  often 
idoes  she 

'*  —  deem  the  kiss  and  smile 

Are  life,  and  love's  beginning ; 
While  he  who  wins  the  heart  awvj, 
Is  satisfied  with  winning." 

But  thengh  this  was  not  the  case  irith  Eugene  Adaii, 
•till  he  did  not  feel  as  assured  of  her  love  for  him,  as 
•he  did  of  his  attachment  to  her.    Tmlj  1  her  perfeci 
f 


14«  HAPPINESS- mSAPPOim'MSNT. 

trriBt  in  him  deserved  a  speedier  and  more  full  reward 
than  it  received. 

Time  dragged  slowly  along  until  the  usnal  time  oi 
his  coming  was  reached  and  passed,  which  Berrie  M- 
certained  by  furtive  glances  at  her  watch  when  ehe 
deemed  herself  unobserved,  and  disappointment  waa 
beginning  its  cruel  work  at  her  heart-strings,  when 
there  were  steps  on  the  walk,  and  a  loud  ring  at  the 
door-bell.  Although  the  peal  had  sent  the  blood  in 
tingling  waves  back  to  her  heart,  yet  she  made  no 
sign,  but  with  fingers  tliat  trembled  perceptibly  con- 
tinued the  noisy  march  she  had  been  playing.  Misi 
Burton  was  reading  by  the  centre-table,  but  did  not 
lay  down  her  book  until  Miss  Wardell  and  her  frequent 
companion,  Mr.  Malvern,  were  ushered  in. 

One  choking  gasp  to  crush  do^vn  the  sickening  sense 
of  disappointment  which  she  felt  as  the  sound  of  their 
voices  reached  her  ear,  and  Berrie  turned  with  her 
usual  gay  manner  to  greet  them. 

All  the  eve,  the  merry  laugh,  the  saucy  repartee, 
seemed  to  come  readily  from  her  lips,  although  with 
every  nerve  strained  to  its  utmost  tension,  she  listened 
for  the  slightest  sound  that  should  indicate  the  coming 
of  the  expected  one ;  hearing,  above  all  the  gayety  that 
reigned  within,  the  least  breath  of  noise  that  stirred 
without,  and  paying  in  that  seemingly  endless  even- 
ing, the  fii*8t  tithe  to  her  love-crowned  womanhood,  in 
the  current  coins  of  disappointment  and  hope-deferred| 
wrung  from  her  while  on  the  rack  of  torturing  sud* 
pense. 

Ab  the  evening  waned,  and  still  the  light  conversar 


HAPPINESS -DISAPPOINTMEITT.  lO 

tion  never  flagged,  and  their  guests  gave  no  sign  ol 
taking  theii  departure,  the  color  died  from  the  girl'i 
fair  cheek,  her  laugh  :?iame  less  and  less  frequently, 
and  with  unutterable  longing  for  quiet  and  solitnde 
did  she  await  their  departure.  At  last  they  were 
making  their  adieus,  to  Berrie's  profound  relief ;  but 
the  evening  was  not  ioomed  to  end  without  one  mort 
torture  to  the  proud  and  sensitive  heart  of  the  girL 

"  By  the  way,  where  is  Mr.  Adair  this  evening  ? " 
Miss  Wardell  inquired  teasingly,  as  she  put  on  her 
hat. 

The  color  rushed  to  cheek  and  brow  of  the  lovely 
face,  but  she  answered  calmly,  "  You  ask  too  mnch ; 
how  should  /know,  indeed?" 

"  He  was  in  last  evening,  you  know,  Jennie ;  yon 
would  not  expect  to  always  find  him  here,  would 
you  ? "  Belle  inquired,  carelessly. 

But  Miss  Wardell  continued  archly,  "  I  wouldn't 
blame  him  if  he  did  not  come  any  more,  the  way  you 
treated  him  last  night,  Berrie  I  you  didn't  say  scarcely 
a  word  to  the  poor  fellow,  and  he  looked  terribly 
flown-hearted  after  you  left  the  room." 

"  Nonsense  1 "  returned  Berrie  impatiently.  "  Mr 
Adair  has  more  sense." 

"  Oh,  I  presume  you  think  so  I "  still  laughingly ; 
"  but  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  such  an  arrant  little  CO- 
quettt^-,  Berrie  " 

"  You  had  better  refrain  from  looking  at  me  then  1 " 
haughtily. 

"  But  you  ahouldn't  treat  Mr.  Adair  so ;  he's  worth 
winning." 


1 41  MAj*piNEss-  -Dik  irromTMEJirr. 

"  Indeed  ?  then  perhaps  you  had  better  try  for  hiai 
jrourBeif  ;  you  are  more  accustomed  to  such  thingi  thui 
lam." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  w-flh  to  interfere  with  you  I "  with  • 
little  embarrassed  laugh,  as  if  the  last  shot  had  hit. 

"Do  not  alarm  yourself  about  mel  I  make  over 
any  claim  to  him  which  you  fancy  I  possess.  I  am 
not  so  anxious  for  a  settlement  as  some  young  ladies  1  ** 

"  Come,  Jennie,  you  had  better  let  Adair  and  Berrio 
alone,"  interposed  Mr.  Malvern,  laughingly  attempt- 
ing to  draw  her  away.  "  You  may  get  the  worst  of 
it" 

"  Well,  good  night,  girls  I  come  down  soon,"  and 
Miss  Wardell  gladly  took  her  departure. 

"  Csm't  you  stand  a  little  teasing,  Berrie  ?  "  asked  her 
sister  when  the  guests  were  gone. 

"  A  moderate  amount,  yes ;  but  I  am  sick  and  tired 
of  hearing  about  Mr.  Adair.  One  would  think  that 
no  other  gentleman  ever  paid  me  any  attention." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  you  did  treat  him  very  well 
last  night,  and,  as  Jennie  says,  he  looked  very  grave 
after  you  left  the  room." 

"  As  if  that  was  anything  unusual !  But  it  seems  I 
can't  please  you  anyway  ;  yesterday  you  were  all  talk- 
ing to  me  about  manifestly  preferring  him  to  any  one 
else,  and  now  scold  me  because  I  don't  I  am  di*- 
gusted  with  the  whole  thing." 

"  Oh,  that  was  all  in  fun  yesterday." 

"  Well,  I  am  tired  of  such  fun  1 "  and  with  a  oool 
•  good  night,"  she  left  the  room. 

B«rrie  was   undeniably  cross;    out  had    an^  out 


HAPPINESS- DT8 APPOINTMENT.  IM 

known  how  heavily  her  heart  was  beating  with  min- 
gled emotions  of  pride,  disappointment,  vexation,  and 
iUBpense,  they  would  have  pitied  rather  than  censured. 
"  A  good  cry  "  relieved  somewhat  her  ever- wrought 
feelings,  and  a  night's  repose  restored  in  a  measare  tki 
freahness  and  tone  of  her  spirits. 


CHAPTER  X. 


INDIGNATION — OCKJUETBT. 

**  Lor*  ia  a  traitor,  opcninGT  the  gate 
To  admit  tte  stealth j  foe,  EsfH 
Wk»  amsheth  every  flower  and  rerdant  iluiiK 
BzhacBts  the  dews,  and  poiaons  6very  foimi, 
(yeroometh  Ignorance  surprised,  and  then 
Destroys  his  cherished  treasure,  happiueea.** 

J.  0.  HETivoaat 

**  Many  a  woman  conoeaLs  an  aching,  empty  heart,  with  amilee  an! 
artfnl  disgoiMs.'* 

a  B.  o. 


^ERAL  days  of  alternate  hope  and  disappoint- 
ment passed  slowly  along,  and  Berne  realized 
the  full  meaning  of  what  had  been  before  but 
empty  words. 

For  a  time,  with  wch  sD<tceeding  day,  she  had  felt 
certain  that  ere  it  closed  she  should  see  him,  but  the 
evening  brought  only  another  disappointment  in  place 
of  "  hope's  fr-iition,"  until  at  last  she  forced  herself  to 
believe  that  he  was  triding  with  her,  aud  distrust  and 
indignation  took  the  place  of  her  former  warm  regard. 
Not  thAt  ihe  ceased  to  care  for  him, — hii  image  wa« 


INDTGNATlON—COqUETRT.  161 

•et  too  deeply  in  the  sanctuary  of  her  heart,  but  Prida 
came  to  the  rescue,  and  suffer  as  she  might  in  secreti 
her  smile  was  briglit  and  sweet  as  ever,  and  she 
coquetted  as  gaily  with  otliers  as  if  her  former  ad' 
mirer  was  there  tc  see ;  although  often  wearying  of  it 
all,  and  growing  each  day  more  and  more  restless  and 
captious. 

Thus  a  week  passed  before  she  learned  of  his  ab- 
sence, which  would  of  course  explain  the  sudden  cessa- 
tion of  his  visits.  Mr.  Wright  had  been  in  Boston  for 
some  days,  but  on  the  evening  of  Kis  return,  he  has- 
tened to  the  place  which  was  so  pleasant  to  him,  and 
received  a  very  kind  and  cordial  welcome.  Berrie 
felt  assured  that  he  must  know  something  of  the 
truant,  but  much  as  she  longed  to  know  the  reason  of 
his  desertion,  she  felt  she  could  not  trust  herself  to 
mention  his  name  ;  felt  certain  that  did  she  attempt  it 
her  voice  would  falter,  and  the  tell-tale  color,  rushing 
to  cheek  and  brow,  would  betray  how  deeply  she  waa 
interested  in  the  question  she  would  fain  have  proposed 
so  naturally.  Therefore  she  remained  silent,  hoping 
that  some  happy  chance  would  give  her  the  information 
0he  so  much  desired.     Nor  was  she  disappointed. 

"  By  the  way,  Adair  left  town  quite  suddenly,  did  ho 
not?"  Mr.  Wright  inquired  carelessly,  in  the  course 
of  conversation. 

Berrie's  cheek  paled,  and  she  held  her  breath  to 
listen,  thankful  that  at  the  time  she  was  secure  from 
obseivation,  as  the  question  had  been  asked  while  she 
was  bending  over  the  music-stand,  arranging  somii 
tooee  ftheetB  of  music  lying  thereon. 


15t  UrDIQNATION-COqUBmt, 

"Wo  had  not  heard  that  he  was  gone.  Hm  Ki 
really  left  1 "  Miss  Burton  asked  in  Burprise. 

"  Why  yes  1  he  went  to  Washington  abont  a  week 
ago ;  did  he  say  nothing  of  it  to  any  of  you  I " 

"  No — I  think  not.  Not  to  me  at  least  Berne,  did 
Mr,  Adair  tell  you  he  was  going  away  ? " 

"  No  1 "  was  the  quiet  reply  from  the  piano. 

"  Well  1  I  am  surprised !  I  wondered  he  had  not  been 
up  of  late." 

"  How  long  since  he  was  here  1 " 

"  I  don't  know ;  about  a  week,  I  think.  Do  you  re- 
member what  evening  he  was  here  last,  Berrie  ?  " 

Did  she  not  remember  only  too  well !  Did  not  his 
last  words  still  ring  in  her  ears,  and  his  kisses  seem 
still  burning  on  her  trembling  lips.  As  if  she  could 
have  forgotten  I 

She  hesitated  a  moment  as  if  in  deliberation,  but 
really  to  control  her  voice,  then  answered,  as  quietly  aa 
before :     "  Last  Wednesday,  I  think  I  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  remember  now  ;  the  night  there  were  so 
many  in.     When  did  you  say  he  left  ? " 

"  On  Thursday  morning  early,  I  believe  our  land" 
lady  said.  It  is  singular  he  should  not  have  mentioned 
it,  and  have  bidden  you  good-by." 

"  I  think  it  is  1 "  returned  Belle  musingly;  "  but  pen* 
haps  he  was  called  away  suddenly." 

"  Very  likely  1  I  know  he  has  been  expectmg  to  g9 
to  Washington  for  some  time." 

"  Has  he  really  left  town  permanently  ? "  Belle  in^ 
quired. 

*^  It  is  uncertain,  I  think     Mn.  B.  said  that  he  told 


lNI>IONATION~COqurrBT,  111 

Ibt  ha  naight  be  baek  in  two  or  tbr«c  wmIu,  and  h« 
migbt  not  be  able  to  return  at  all ;  in  which  case  he 
would  write  her  where  to  send  the  baggage  he  had  left 
in  hds  room." 

^  Well  t  I  think  as  much  as  he  has  been  here  thig 
lammer  he  might  have  had  the  grace  to  say  '  good-by ' 
At  least." 

^  I  most  say  I  think  so  too  !  But  perhaps  he  hai 
■ome  good  reason  for  his  abrupt  departure  ;  in  fact,  I 
•m  positive  he  has ;  for  Adair  is  a  perfect  gentleman, 
as  you  all  must  know  ere  this.  I  presume  he  will  be 
back  before  long." 

Berrie  left  the  room  as  soon  as  she  thought  she  could 
do  so  without  exciting  comment,  but  Belle  and  Mr. 
Wright  were  too  much  engrossed  with  each  other  to 
notice  or  regret  her  departure. 

Alone  in  her  room  she  looked  at  the  matter  in  the 
new  light  that  she  had  gained  ;  at  first  feeling  greatly 
relieved  that  he  had  not  been  in  town  all  th;B  weary 
time  without  visiting  her,  then  indignant  that  he  had 
not  managed  in  some  way  to  let  her  know  of  his  de* 
parture,  had  it  been  so  unexpected  that  he  knew 
nothing  of  it  himself  on  his  last  visit  just  one  week 
ago. 

How  long  that  week  had  seemed  1  how  much  she 
had  lived  in  it ;  how  essentially  her  heart  and  life  had 
been  changed  by  those  few  days  of  suspense  and  diaap* 
pointment. 

Had  he  been  going  away,  why  jould  he  not  har« 
gone  quietly  without  shakirg  her  heart  to  its  very 
depths,  by  the  tale  he  had  told  so  eloquently^  in  thi 


154  im)IO¥ATI0N—C0qUBTBT. 

few  brief  momenta  they  were  alone  together,  on  tt»t 
fatal  evening ! 

Thus  indignation  mastered  for  the  time  her  affection 
for  and  trust  in  him,  and  with  a  determined  look  on 
her  fair  face,  a  painfully  close  setting  of  the  pouting 
lips,  she  prepared  to  make  her  night  toilet,  resolved  ii 
he  could  give  her  up  so  lightly,  she  would  at  least  not 
grieve  for  him,  but  summoning  pride  to  her  aid,  would 
io  conduct  that  the  world  should  never  guess  how 
nearly  her  happiness  had  been  wrecked,  how  closely 
had  the  "  rosy  god  "  swept  by  her,  brushing  her  cheek 
with  his  downy  wings,  and  leaving  in  her  heart  the  re- 
membrance of  one  soft  look  from  his  bewitching,  dan- 
gerous eyes, 

"  Berrie,  what  has  become  of  your  old  admirer 
Eugene  Adair  ? "  inquired  Charlie  Anderson,  a  few 
evenings  later,  as  he  stood  by  the  piano  where  she  sat, 
idly  running  her  fingers  over  the  keys,  striking  exquis- 
ite chords  at  every  careless  touch. 

He  was  a  fine  young  man  of  about  thirty  years,  not 
particularly  handsome,  but  exceedingly  good  principled 
and  pleasing,  one  of  those  rare  gentlemen  whom  ladiei 
feel  almost  as  free  with  as  with  one  of  themselves,  and 
who  take  no  advantage  of  the  familiarity  with  which 
they  are  treated.  It  was  evident,  however,  that  he  ad- 
mired Miss  Berrie  extremely,  and  she  :n  turn  regarded 
him  with  more  favor  than  any  of  her  other  gentlemen 
acquaintances,  excepting,  of  course,  Eugene  Adair,  and 
ever  felt  a  cordial  pleasure  in  his  society. 

Berrie's  heart  stepped  beating  at  this  careless  men- 
tion of  a  name  which  she  could  never  hear  unmoved, 


INDIGNATION-  COQL  ETHT.  IftS 

ftnd  she  bent  her  head  a  little  that  the  drooping  corll 
might  hide  the  flushing  cheekB,  as  she  answered  gaily ' 
**  Oh,  he  has  deserted  me,  I  expect  1  Don't  yea  feci 
•orry  for  me,  Charlie  ?  " 

"  More  80  for  you,"  he  laughed,  "  than  for  myseH. 
We  gentlemen  consider  him  a  dangerous  rival,  Berrie." 

"  Indeed  ?  why  should  you  ?  "  and  the  little  coquetta 
looked  up  with  her  most  bewitching  glance  in  the  vio- 
let eyes  of  the  man  at  her  side. 

"  Oh,  he  is  so  confoundedly  cool — excuse  me,  Berrie 
— and  so  handsome  and  fascinating  as  well.* 

"  Yes, — but  he  is  so  old,  Charlie  I  "  and  again  tha 
nstrouseyes  did  duty. 

"Not  80  very,  and  that  is  no  objection  to  nuuiy 
young  ladies,  other  things  being  satisfactory." 

"  No — but  then — .  Are  you  pleading  his  cause, 
Charlie  ? " 

"  Not  1 1  I  assure  you  I "  and  he  laughed  softly.  "  I 
am  too  glad  to  have  him  out  of  the  way.  But  where 
has  he  gone,  really,  Berrie  ?  His  home  is  in  Boston,  is 
it  not?" 

"  I  think  so,  yes  1  but  he  is  now  in  "Washington,  I 
believe ;  at  least  Mr.  Wright  said  bo  a  few  evenings 
lince." 

"  And  when  is  he  coming  back  to  continue  his  woo 
ing,  and  cast  us  poor  fellows  in  the  shade  again  ? " 

"  As  if  he  could  do  that,  Charlie  I  I  do  not  know, 
indeed,  if  he  expects  to  return  at  all.  He  was  here  the 
evening  before  he  left,  bv.t  said  nothing  about  going 
away." 

*  I  expect  joa  were  so  omel  to  him,  jut  m  yon  art 


IM  INDIGNA  TION-  -  COQUBTBT. 

to  me  somotirach.  that  lie  left  in  sheer  desperataon.  If 
that  it,  Berrie  %  " 

The  girl  remembe;-^  with  a  thrill  Jww  cmel  ihi 
had  been  in  the  last  moments  they  were  together,  tmt 
she  looked  up  in  well-feigned  surprise  and  eaid,  **/, 
Charlie  \     Am  I  ever  cruel  to  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  jou  are,  Berrie,  to  flirt  so  with  others  wheD 
you  know — " 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  *  Tam  O'Shanter,'  Charlie  f  ** 
•he  interposed,  and  with  a  crash  that  drowned  all  other 
Bound  she  commenced  the  beautiful  piece. 

Charlie  was  effectually  silenced,  as  he  had  been 
many  times  before ; — led  on  by  the  bewitching  glancei 
of  the  little  flirt,  until  a  declaration  of  love  trembled 
on  his  lips,  then  annihilated  with  one  sweep  of  her 
dainty  little  hand. 

Thus  she  took  her  revenge  for  the  disappointment 
one  of  his  sex  had  imposed  upon  her,  and  proved  to 
the  world  that  she  was  still  "  heart-whole  and  ivoaj* 


CHAPTER  XL 

TEX    EBTUBN — SAD   EOlTBa. 

"Oh  but  fll 
Wben  with  rich  hopes  o^er-franght,  the  jonng.  high  hmti 
B«an  its  first  blow  I — it  knows  not  jet  the  par^ 
Whioh  life  will  teach— to  suffer  and  be  still.*^ 

Mss.  HncAmL 


.ELLA,  I  am  going  out  for  a  few  moments ;  il 
any  one  calls  to  see  me  tell  them  I  will  b« 
back  soon,"  said  Berrie,  one  evening  abont 
four  weeks  after  Mr.  Adair's  abrupt  departure  for 
Washington,  as  she  passed  the  partially  opened  door  of 
the  parlor,  on  her  way  through  the  hall. 

"  But  some  one  has  called  already  1 "  returned  Belle. 
"  Come  in,  Berrie  ;  didn't  Hattie  tell  you  ? " 

"  No  1  but  they  will  please  excuse  me  fcf  a  few 
minutes ;  I  will  not  be  long."  But  before  she  reached 
the  door  she  was  stopped  by  Charlie  Anderson. 

**  Stay,  Berrie,  let  me  accompany  you  ;  it  is  too  late 
for  you  to  be  out  alone." 

"<  Oh,  it  is  you,  is  it,  ChArliet  I  am  Bet  »fndd,  and 
prafertofo  alone." 


158  THE  RETURN— SAD  nOlTB& 

"  Bat  I  cannot  albw  jou  to  I "  and  he  reached  lot 
his  hat. 

"  Indeed  '  "  was  the  langhing  answer.  "  Bat  sup- 
pose 1  should  Bay  that  I  should  not  allow  you  to  go." 

"  You  will  not,  of  course  ? " 

*"  Don't  be  too  sure  I  Didn't  I  say  that  I  preferred 
tc  gr  alone  ?  " 

"  But  some  one  will  carry  you  oft  I "  laughingly,  sup- 
posing her  to  be  only  fencing. 

"  No  danger  of  that  as  long  as  you  are  safely 
housed  1 "  was  the  gay  reply. 

He  put  on  his  hat,  and  taking  hold  of  her  arm  said : 
"  Come  along,  Berrie  1 " 

But  she  resisted,  and  exclaimed  laughing,  "  But  I 
don't  want  you  to  go,  Charlie  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  surprise,  without 
speaking,  but  she  continued  :  "  I  am  not  going  far, 
and  I  don't  want  any  protection  at  all.  Don't  you  see 
that  the  longer  you  detain  me,  the  later  it  will  be  be- 
fore I  am  back  ?  Come,  go  in  the  parlor,  like  a  good 
boy,  Charlie,  and  stay  until  I  return,"  laughing  again 
to  see  how  crest-fallen  he  looked  at  her  refusal  of  his 
escort. 

"  You  had  better  not  go  at  all !  there  is  some  one  in 
the  parlor  that  you  will  like  to  see." 

"  Indeed?  Well,  it  will  be  time  enough  when  I  am 
Wck.  Come,  let  me  go,  Charlie,"  and  she  took  his 
arm,  led  him  to  the  parlor  door,  and  pushing  him  play- 
fully within,  exclaimed,  without  looking  in  the  room  : 
"  Here,  Belle,  keep  this  naughty  boy  safe  until  I  return ; 
I  can't  have  him  with  me  I  "  and  closing  the  door,  sbf 


TBE  RETUBK-SAD  BO/BS.  169 

rmn  hastily  through  the  hall,  and  the  Te«tibale  door 
speedily  clanged  behind  her. 

As  has  been  previously  intimated,  about  four  weeki 
Lad  elapsed  since  Mr.  Adair  had  taken  his  departure, 
and  Berrie  had  some  time  since  come  to  the  conclusiou 
that  he  would  not  return,  and  that  the  sooner  aho 
dropped  him  from  her  recollection,  the  better  it  would 
be  for  her  peace  of  mind. 

She  had  also  learned  that  it  was  not  so  easy  a  task  ai 
she  had  imagined  His  image  would  rise  before  her 
on  the  most  inauspicious  occasions ;  and  laugh,  and  sing, 
and  coquet  as  she  might,  there  was  always  a  little  sigh 
in  her  heart,  and  with  the  reaction  which  was  certain 
to  follow  in  the  silence  of  her  own  room,  hot,  bitter 
tears  came  but  too  frequently  also.  Her  life  seemed 
hollow,  aimless  and  unsatisfactory,  and  robbed  of  the 
meed  of  love  which  would  have  made  it  so  full  and 
sweet ;  she  longed  for  something  to  fill  the  void,  more 
substantial  than  the  round  of  wearying  pleasure  that 
ihe  had  of  late  pursued. 

Almost  giving  up  the  hope  of  his  return,  she  did 
not  dream  that  the  guest  whom  Charlie  assured  her  she 
would  "  like  to  see,"  was  the  very  one  of  whose  coming 
she  had  nearly  despaired ;  while  he  sat  there  in  the 
parlor  of  her  home,  seemingly  occupied  with  a  book 
of  engravings  which  he  had  taken  from  the  table,  but 
really  listening  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure  to  the  light, 
familiar  step  in  the  hall,  and  with  a  touch  of  pain  to 
the  gay  tone  and  words  which  seemed  tt/  tell  him,  not 
only  that  he  had  not  been  missed,  but  that  another  had 
tnpplanted  him  in  the  heart  of  the  girl  he  loved. 


leg  THM  JUBTUBir-MAD  MOV  JIM. 

Man  ol  tb«  world  as  h«  was,  capabl«  m  hm  •ouikhBtt) 
ki  tnself  of  calculating  the  evidence  of  preference  which 
came  before  bis  eyes,  yet  the  glamour  of  a  true  and 
^•asiorate  love  had  so  blinded  him  that  he  could  not 
I00&  Deic'w  the  surface,  had  lent  him  so  much  of  mod- 
ctty  and  diffidence  that  he  failed  to  appropriate  looks 
and  words  that  really  belonged  to  him,  and  caused 
him  to  forget  that  women,  like  dreams,  "  go  by  con- 
traries," and  that  their  acts  must  often  be  accordingly 
estimated. 

Probably  about  an  hour  elapsed  ere  Berrie  re- 
turned from  her  independent  walk,  while  Mr.  Adair 
was  silent  and  distrait,  and  Charlie  Anderson  restlesg, 
and  evidently  impatient  for  her  return. 

At  length  her  step  sounded  on  the  piazza,  and  th« 
click  of  her  key  in  the  door,  and  Belle  remarked  to 
Mr.  Adair :  "  Berrie  will  be  surprised  at  seeing  you." 

"  Yesl"  he  returned  smiling,  just  as  Berrie  opened 
the  dour  and  paused  on  the  threshold,  almost  blinded 
by  the  brilliant  li^ht  within,  in  contrast  with  the  dark- 
ness without. 

She  placed  her  hand  before  her  eyes  for  a  moment, 
exclaiming :  "  IIow  light  you  have  it  here.  Belle  I  it 
b  fearfully  dark  out  of  doors.  I  almost  wished  I  had 
taken  you  along,  Charlie,"  and  she  removed  her  hand 
and  turned  to  look  for  him,  when  her  careless  glance 
fell  on  the  face  of  her  long  absent  friend. 

For  an  instant  she  stood  as  if  spell-bound,  the  blood 
teeming  to  stand  still  in  her  veins,  then  bounding 
madly  on  as  he  arose  and  came  smilingly  forward,  say- 
ing in  the  low,  cultivated  fa^nes  she  had  thoni^bt  nerei 


nor  VBTxmir-BAj)  eouba  i9x 

to  hear  again :    "  Good  evening,  Misi  Berne,  I  am  fery 
happy  to  see  yon  once  more." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Adair  I  yon  are  indeed  a  stranger,"  she 
managed  to  stammer  confusedly,  as  he  took  her  hand 
in  greeting. 

"  Yes  1 "  he  returned  in  his  nsnal  self-possessed  man 
ner.  "  I  have  been  absent  longer  than  I  hoped,  indeed 
I  did  not  know  that  I  should  be  able  to  return  at  alL 
I  was  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  leave  so  abruptly,"  he 
went  on,  to  give  her  time  to  regain  her  composure,  and 
resuming  his  seat,  "  without  an  opportunity  of  saying 
*  good-bye'  to  the  friends  to  whom  I  am  indebted  foi 
such  a  pleasant  summer ;  but  I  received  an  imperious 
dispatch  on  the  last  evening  1  was  here,  which  obliged 
me  to  leave  by  the  first  train.  I  should  have  written 
had  I  not  been  able  to  come  back,  but  am  very  happy 
to  return  to  make  my  adieus  in  person." 

While  he  had  been  speaking,  the  old  sweet  confi 
dence  and  love  surged  back  to  the  tender,  unskilled 
heart  of  the  girl,  but  with  the  last  words  it  all  died  out 
again. 

"  He  has  only  returned  to  say  farewell ;  he  does  not 
lore  me  after  all  I "  she  thought  to  herself,  and  stung 
and  hurt  to  the  core,  she  returned  calmly  and  coolly : 
"We  supposed  you  were  called  suddenly  away." 

Then  turning  to  her  other  guest  gaily — "Well, 
Charlie,  did  you  think  me  very  long  away  ? " 

**  Yes,  and  was  afraid  the  fate  I  prophesied  had  be^ 
&llen  you." 

"What I  That  I  was  carried  off!  Oh,  I  told  yoi 
there  was  no  danger  of  that" 


If)  TJDB  RETURFSAL  ffOUBB. 

"1  didn't  think,  Berrie,  you  wonld  give  me  Ubi 
mitten  in  that  way." 

«  Didn't  you  ? "  laughing.  "  Well,  I'll  be  good  next 
time  and  let  you  go.  You  see  my  business  was  very 
private,  and  I  was  afraid  you  could  not  keep  a  secrei." 

"  Oh,  I  can,  I  assure  you  I "  eagerly.  "  Try  me  and 
•ee  ;  I  am  not  a  woman." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  not  1  I  am  afraid  you  would  provt 
worse  than  a  woman,  and  betray  me." 

"Never!  Tell  me,  for  instance,  what  I  wish  to 
know,  and  I  promise  sacredly  that  I  will  be  ai  silent  ai 
Ae  grave." 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  know  !  " 

"  Whom  do  you  love  best  ?"  in  a  tone  bo  low  no  one 
else  could  distinguish  the  words. 

She  glanced  at  him  saucily  and  coquettishly,  reply- 
ing as  she  arose  and  went  towards  the  piano :  "  I  never 
answer  impertinent  questions  1  Have  you  heard  my 
new  song,  Charlie  ? " 

She  sang  the  one  in  question,  not  delaying  for  a  re- 
ply, but  no  persuasion  of  either  of  her  guests  could  in- 
duce her  to  sing  again.  She  was  obstinate,  coquettish, 
changeable,  and  saucy  the  whole  evening,  laughing 
and  talking  much  more  than  her  wont  exceedingly 
gracious  to  Charlie  one  moment,  and  quarrelling  with 
him  the  next  on  the  slightest  provocation,  saying  in  the 
meantime  very  little  directly  to  her  just  returned 
friend,  Eugene  Adair. 

More  puzzled  than  ever,  he  eariy  took  hib  departure, 
unable  to  guess  whether  it  was  indifference  or  piqoc 
that  dictated  her  exceedingly  contrndictory  actioni. 


THE  RETURN    SAD  HOXntR  168 

Severftl  days  passed  on,  and  although  thej  met 
frequently,  Mr.  Adair  was  still  as  much  pozzled  at  on 
the  first  evening  of  his  return  to  understand  the  way- 
ward, changeable  girl.  Never  had  she  been  bo  gay 
and  attractive  ;  and  though  she  did  not  seem  to  avoid 
him,  and  met  him  as  pleasantly  as  ever  before,  yet  her 
attention  was  so  much  occupied  by  others  more  young 
and  lively  than  himself,  that  when  a  week  had  passed, 
he  could  not  recall  a  single  ten  minutes'  conversation 
with  her  since  his  return. 

He  little  dreamed  that  scarce  a  night  passed  by,  bnt 
she  sat,  sometimes  for  hours,  with  head  bent  on  her 
hand  in  sorrowful  musing,  in  which  he  took  a  con- 
•picuouB  part,  at  times  with  close-set  lips  and  a  hard, 
despairing  look  in  her  eyes,  at  others  with  tears  rain- 
ing down  her  cheeks,  while  tempests  of  sobs  convulsed 
her  rounded,  girlish  form, — the  mask  of  pride  which 
she  had  worn  so  gaily,  torn  off  and  thrown  aside,  and 
the  echo  to  all  her  musings,  "  he  does  not  care  for  me, 
he  does  not  care  for  me  I "  For  he,  too,  was  proud ;  and, 
almost  convinced  of  her  indifference  to  him,  he  would 
not  seem  to  woo  one  who  evidently  preferred  others' 
■ociety  lo  his. 

Thus  playing  at  cross-purposes,  day  after  day  passed 
by,  and  the  first  week  of  October  was  already  gore, 
when  quite  a  party  met  accidentally  in  the  hospitable 
mansion  of  the  Burtons.  Among  the  others  were  out 
old  acquaintances,  Messrs.  Wright,  Adair,  and  Ander- 
son, with  Jennie  WardeM  And  her  devoted  attendant, 
Mr.  Malvern.  Belle  of  o^urse  was  present,  and  Berrie, 
leomingly  in  her  gA/v'.  mood,  chatted,  and  laughed, 


164  THE  RBTURN-SAD  HOUBB. 

and  MDg,  and  coquetted,  as  nsaal  tLe  oelle  3f  Am 

She  was  looking  uniifinally  well  in  a  trailing  skirt  of 
»ea-green  silk,  and  a  high-cut  waist  of  white  mofilin, 
the  low  lining  and  filmy  texture  revealing  the  ronnded 
Bhoulders,  whose  beauty  the  delicacy  of  the  fabric 
which  covered  them  but  enhanced.  As  usual  she  wm 
without  a  jewel  of  any  description,  and  her  watch, 
which  had  lost  its  novelty,  was  lying  unheeded  in  ita 
case  on  her  dressing  bureau.  A  rose-colored  bow 
fastened  the  lace  collar  at  her  throat,  and  heightened 
the  flush  which  excitement  had  imparted  to  her  cheeks, 
while  her  eyes  shone  and  sparkled  with  gayety,  and 
her  lovely  hair  flowing  over  her  shoulders,  contrasted 
pleasingly  with  the  snow  of  her  delicate  waist. 

Eugene  Adair  watched  her  with  hungry  eyea,  al- 
though seldom  attempting  to  engage  her  in  conversa 
tion,  knowing  well,  from  past  experience,  how  difficult 
it  would  be ;  but  resolving  at  last  that  he  would  not 
give  her  up  so  easily,  that  in  the  few  remaining  dayi 
of  his  stay  he  would  make  every  effort  to  win  a  heart 
he  had  once  thought  almost  within  his  grasp.  That 
fatal  visit  to  Waflhington  1  He  wished  sometimes  that 
it  had  never  been  made ;  and  yet  in  the  same  breath 
told  himself  that  if  she  could  not  be  constant  just  tho6» 
few  short  weeks,  he  surely  could  not  trust  her  faithful- 
ness for  the  years  to  come.  With  man'a  onreasonablih 
ness,  reproaching  her  for  fickleness,  and  forgetting  that 
love  even  must  have  something  to  feed  u^wn — mwo/^ 
thing  either  to  hope  or  remember — else,  however  ardent 
the  ire,  it  will  at  last  bom  itself  out ;  ignorant  tbul 


TBE  RBTUIiN-SAD  EOUSS.  IM 

Im  had  taken  just  the  means  to  alienate  her  from  him^ 
at  least  in  seeming,  and  put  her  on  her  mettle  of  pride, 
by  half  revealing  his  love  for  her,  then  abruptly  leav- 
ing her  for  weeks,  without  a  spoken  or  written  word. 
Eugene  Adair  was  kiud,  noble,  honorable,  gentlemanly, 
and  considerate,  but  he  would  not  have  belonged  to 
his  sex  had  he  not  been  unreasonable  and  exacting  as 
well. 

So  Berrie  glided  gaily  along  over  the  pathway  of 
the  days,  hiding  bravely  the  pain  which  lay  couchant 
in  her  tender  heart,  and  unconscious  of  the  pangs  she 
inflicted  on  the  man  she  loved,  while  he  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  tell,  as  he  watched  her,  whether  she  was  the 
more  charming  when  pouting  till  her  crimson  lips 
looked  more  kissable  than  ever,  or  smiling  till  her 
•nowy  teeth  shone  in  bewitching  contrast  with  the  ripe 
red  mouth. 

On  this  evening  Charlie  Anderson,  as  usual,  was 
close  to  her  side,  turning  the  leaves  of  her  music  when 
she  played,  and  in  every  manner  possible  monopolizing 
her  attention,  while  Mr.  Adair,  determined  to  speak  a 
few  words  to  her  that  evening  ere  he  should  leave, 
bided  his  time. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  Clara  Maybnry's  party 
to-morrow  night,  Berrie,  are  you  not  ? "  inquired  Jen- 
nie Wardell  late  in  the  evening. 

"  I  suppose  so,  yes  I  but  I  do  not  care  abont  it  much ; 
1  would  rather  stay  quietly  at  home  by  myself." 

"  Nonsense  1  so  lately  home  from  «chool  an^  averse 
lo  parties  ? " 

<*  Yes,  wonderful  as  it  may  seem  I    I  hjiye  icureelj 


ie«  THE  RETURN—SAD   UOfTRS. 

kad  a  quiet  day  since  ray  return,  and  I  am  tired,"  and 
hier  looks  for  the  moment  did  not  belie  her  words. 

**  However,"  she  continued,  "  I  suppose  I  shall  go^ 
M  I  believe  the  invitation  has  been  accepted." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Belle,  "  that  Clara  is  rathei 
early  in  the  season." 

"  She  has  a  special  reason  for  it,  I  believe.  Many 
of  the  summer  boarders  in  tovvn,  with  whom  she  is  in- 
timately acquainted,  leave  next  week,  and  this  is  more 
particularly  in  their  honor." 

Berrie  wondered  if  Eugene  Adair  wm  one  of  them, 
but  kept    silence.     He   had   said   nothing    of    going 
away  since  the  first  night  of  his  return,  but  she  knew, 
of  course,  that  he  must  go,  as  he  had  no  bnsiuesi  or 
other  connection  there,  and  her  heart  sank  at  the  dread 
certainty  of  the  absence  of  one  who  was  dearer  than 
all  other  earthly  objects.      The  evening's  excitement 
had  suddenly  worn  off,  leaving  her  pale,  listless,  and 
silent,  wearying  of  the  society  of  every  one,  and  long- 
ing, as  she  so  often  did  of  late,  for  the  quiet  of  her 
own  apartment.     In  vain   she   endeavored   to  arouw 
herself  to  her  former  gaiety ;  the  mask  had  been  re- 
moved, and  she  found  she  could  not  replace  it.     And 
Eugene  Adair  looked  with  surprise  at  the  girl,  who 
a  short  time  before  had  been  so  brilliant  and  lively, 
now  sitting  silent  unless  addressed,  with  such  a  weary ^ 
weary  look  in  the  olive,  colorless  face,  and  large,  dark 
eyes. 

She  was  arranging  the  music  on  her  stand,  iomewluil 
apart  from  the  rest  of  the  company,  when  Mr.  Adair 
aroee  to  go.     He  bade  Miss  Burton  gtxxl  evening,  thea 


TRB  RXTURN-  SAD  HO  DBA  167 

tpproAched  Berrie,  and  held  out  his  hand.  She  \ooted 
up  listlessly,  and  placed  her  own  in  the  ono  extended. 
"My  little  friend,"  with  the  old  gentle  intonation, 
•*  I  shall  send  you  a  bouquet  for  the  party  to-morroi» 
erening,  and,  if  you  will  permit,  a  spray  for  your  h*ii 
also." 

"  Thanks,  Mr.  Adair ! "  she  returned,  "  but—" 
"  Do  not  refuse  me,  Berrie,  so  simple  a  request,"  b« 
Interposed.     "  Accept  the  trifles  and  wear  ihem  for  mj 
Bake,  for  the  sake  of  your — friend." 

She  looked  up  with  the  weary  look  still  in  her  ey««, 
but  did  not  reply,  until  he  said  again :  "  You  will  ac- 
cept them,  will  you  not,  little  girl  ? " 

"  Yes,  since  you  wish  it  so  much.  Were  you  going 
now?" 

"  At  once  1  I  have  taken  leave  of  your  sister.  Good 
night,  Berrie  I     How  tired  you  look." 

"  I  am  tired !  more  tired  than  you  can  think  I "  an** 
the  eyes  that  looked  so  frankly  in  his,  suddenly  filled 
with  tears. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  child  I  Good- night  1 "  he  mur- 
mured softly,  and  with  a  lingering  pressure  of  the 
hand  he  held,  he  turned  away,  while  she  resumed  her 
interrupted  occupation,  bending  lower  and  lower  over 
the  scattered  sheets  to  hide  the  tears  that  would  fall  in 
spite  of  her.  But  after  a  moment  she  regained  her 
self-control,  and  crushing  them  back,  resumed  her  place 
in  the  group  of  g  nests. 

How  relieved  she  felt  when  they  were  ftll  at  last 
gone,  only  those  who  have  entertained  strangers,  or  in- 
different persons,  when  with  every  moment  the  toan 


Ill  TEX  RBTUBN—BAD  HOURS. 

pTMced  nearer  atd  nearer  to  the  heavy  eyelidi,  and 
the  heart  throbbed  harder  and  harder  with  a  nameleM 
pain^  can  realize  or  understand. 

To  her  surprise,  she  found  her  mother  in  her  room, 
ODtwithstanding  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

"  Why,  mamma,  how  you  startled  me  I  Why  are 
you  up  so  late  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  came  up  to  look  over  some  garments  of 
yours,  and  taking  up  this  little  book,  became  so  m- 
terested  that  I  did  not  notice  how  late  it  was.  But 
how  tired  you  look,  child  1     What  is  the  matter  ? " 

The  book  she  held  was  "  Lucile,"  and  at  sight  of  the 
little  volume  which  was  so  dear  to  her,  for  its  own 
Bake  and  that  of  the  giver,  she  felt  she  could  endure 
no  more,  and  throwing  herself  on  the  floor,  she  buried 
her  face  in  her  mother's  lap,  and  sobbing,  exclaimed  : 
"  I  am  tired,  and,  oh,  mother,  so  miserable  also ! " 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  tell  ma  all  about  it,"  soothingly 
stroking  the  bowed  head  of  her  grieving  child. 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  me,  don't  ask  me,  mamma  1  but  I  am 
BO  unhappy,  so  very  wretched." 

Her  mother  said  no  more,  letting  her  silence  and 
caresses  manifest  such  sympathy  in  her  child'^s  sorrow 
RS  a  mother's  tender  heart  alone  can  know. 

At  last  her  grief  was  spent  for  the  time,  the  passion- 
ate sobs  ceased,  and  she  arose  from  her  kneeling  posi- 
tion, averting  her  face  and  saying:  "  I  shall  feel  better 
DOW  ;  I  am  fearfully  tired,  and  a  little  nervous  as  well, 
I  believe." 

Her  mother  assieted  her  to  undress,  and  when  she 
at  last  io  b«d,  she  kissed  her  and  sale  tenderlj : 


t  THE  BETVnySAD  HO  UBS.  16» 

•Good  niglit,  my  darliugl  rest  as  long  «s  yon  Uke  la 
the  mcrning,  and  God  blesa  you,  my  preciouB  child  I 
Uien  turning  out  the  gas,  she  left  the  girl  alo««  wjtk 

tfcji  gilence  and  the  ni^ht 
8 


CHAPTER  Xn.' 


ttTM  UNEXPKOTED  OIFT  -THIC  PAVTV; 

^  A.  ikoDHUid  hearte  beat  huppilj,  and  wlm 
Miudo  arose  with  ita  volaptnoiu  sweU, 
ftoft  eyvm  looked  Ioto  to  erw  that  epoke  agalm. 
And  ail  went  meny  as  a  marriage  bell  " 

LOBD  BTSOa. 


^ETIRIE,  co3;'e  down  here  a  moment j  please  • " 
called  Belle  from  the  hall  below,  abovH  tiiree 
o'clock  on  the  following  afternoon,  sittiJig  down 
on  the  lower  stairs  to  await  the  response  to  her  sum- 
mons.  She  held  in  her  hand  a  hot-houst  bouquet  ir 
its  covering  of  paper,  and  a  small  packag'),  also  closelj 
wrapped. 

After  wai.'ng  a  few  minutes  patiently,  as  hor  slstei 
did  not  make  her  appearance,  she  called  again :  "  Ber- 
rie,  are  vou  not  coming  1 " 

"  In  a  moment,  Belle  1 "  was  the  distant  response,  and 
a  few  seconds  later  the  girl,  still  in  her  moming-drea? 
came  slowly  down  the  stairs, 

"  What  is  it  ?  Why,  what  have  you  there,  Belle  ! ' 
t0  ehe  espied  the  ftrticlee  her  sister  was  holding. 


TSa  UNSXPEOTSD  OTFT-  FEB  PABTT.      171 

"  A  bouquet,  and  this ! "  presenting  them  to  her. 
**  A  little  boy  just  left  them  at  the  d :x)r." 

"  From  Mr.  Adair,  I  presume,"  Berrie  replied  quiet- 
ly. **  That  is,  the  bouquet,  as  he  said  last  evening  he 
woiuui  send  me  one :  but  I  do  not  see  what  this  can 
be.'* 

"  Open  it,  and  you  wiU^  doubtless  1 "  returned  Bell% 
laughing. 

"  Very  likely  I  "  and  sitting  down  on  the  stairs  abova 
her  sister,  she  proceeded  deliberately  to  remove  the 
wrappings,  betraying  nous  of  that  eager  haste  which 
most  young  ladies  would  evince  on  receiving  a  mys- 
terious packet  from  a  gentleman  of  her  acquaintance 

"  A  jewel-case !  "  exclaimed  Belle,  in  surprise,  as  the 
paper  which  had  covered  it  dropped  from  her  sister'i 
hand.  "  That  looks  suspicious,  Berrie  I  "  laughingly. 
"  Did  he  say  he  would  send  that  also  ? " 

"  No  1 "  quietly. 

"  Well,  do  open  it,  and  let  us  see  1  Oh,  how  beauti- 
ful I  For  your  hair,  I  suppose,"  as  the  open  casket  re- 
vealed a  cluster  of  holly-berries  in  cut  coral,  with 
prickly  leaves  crusted  with  green  enamel,  and  glittering 
with  tiny  emeralds,  set  on  every  point  of  the  leaves. 

"  Why,  you  don't  get  a  bit  enthusiastic  over  it,  Ber- 
rie; don't  you  like  it?  I  think  it  is  lovely,  and  will 
be  exceedingly  becoming  to  you,"  as  her  sister  scarcely 
gmiled,  and  looked  rather  vexed  than  pleased. 

"  Fes,  I  think  it  beautiful  1 "  she  returned,  as  quietly 
as  before.  "  But  I  do  uot  like  to  receive  such  presents, 
and  had  I  any  idea  last  night,  that  he  meant  anythiQH 
of  this  kind,  I  should  have  said  no." 


172       TRB  UNEXPECTED   GJFT—THS  PAMIT. 

"  It  seems  he  did  Bpeak  of  it  then ;  you  said  yoi 
knew  nothing  about  it,"  returned  Belle,  in  surpriae. 

"  Well,  I  did  not.  He  merely  said  when  he  went 
•way  that  he  should  send  me  a  bouquet  for  the  party, 
and  aiked  permission  to  send  me  a  spray  for  my 
hair  also.  I  supposed,  of  course,  he  meant  a  spray  of 
flowers,  and  did  not  object,  as  he  begged  bo  earnestly 
that  I  would  not." 

"  "Well,  this  is  much  handsomer  than  flowers,  and  you 
two  are  such  good  friends,  I  do  not  Bee  why  you  should 
not  mind  accepting  and  wearing  it." 

"  I  shall  have  to,  I  suppose,  as  I  promised  to,  but  I 
would  rather  not,  nevertheless." 

"  What  dress  do  you  mean  to  wear  to-night  t  *' 

"  I  don't  know ;  my  white  alpaca,  I  thought,  with 
Bcarlet  geranium  in  my  hair." 

"  Well,  this  will  look  much  handsomer  than  the  ger- 
aniums, and  you  know  he  desired  to  see  you  crowned 
with  holly-berries  I "  laughing. 

"  Belle  1 "  called  her  mother  from  the  dining-room. 

"  Yes,  mamma  1  "  and  she  arose  hastily  to  respond  to 
her  mother's  summons,  while  Berrie  slowly  returned  to 
her  room. 

"  Well,  ma,  will  we  do  ? "  enquired  Belle,  laughingly, 
as  the  sisters  met  in  the  sitting-room  previous  to  leaving 
for  the  party,  each  with  her  cloak  on  her  arm,  and  fan, 
gloves  and  bouquet  in  her  hand. 

"You  look  very  nicely  indeed,  both  of  you'"  re- 
turned the  proud  mother ;  "  I  hope  y(  u  will  nave  a 
pleasant  evening,  but  do  not  stay  very  late ;  Berrie  if 
about  tired  out  with  bo  much  gayety." 


TOE  UNEXPEOTBD  GIFT—THB  TsSTT.      178 

**  Oh,  no,  we'll  return  earlj.  Isn't  Berne's  holl/  bean* 
tifnl,ma?" 

"  Very  lovely,  and  t«coming  ako."  and  she  kissed  the 
girls  and  sent  them  d-^wn  to  the  carriage  which  had 
been  some  time  in  waiting. 

Partial  as  were  the  mother-eyes,  she  did  not  err  in 
saying  that  they  both  looked  exceedingly  well ;  and  so 
thought  many  another,  as  they  entered  the  already 
nearly  filled  rooms  of  Clara  May  bury. 

But  Berrie,  at  least,  had  thus  early  prored  the  truth 
of  Maud  Lester's  careless  statement  on  the  day  of  ex- 
hibition, that  "  wealth  and  beauty  do  not  always  bring 
happiness."  Her  heart  was  very  heavy,  and  she  felt 
that  it  would  be  only  with  an  effort  that  she  coold  at 
Bume  her  usual  gay  manner,  while  there  were  so  many 
by  to  note  each  look  and  word. 

Charlie  Anderson  and  Mr.  "Wright  met  them  at  the 
door  of  the  reception-room,  and  led  them  to  the  young 
hostess,  Berrie  feeling  with  a  little  pang,  how  much 
more  attentive  Mr.  Wright  was  to  her  sister,  than  was 
his  friend  Eugene  Adair  to  hei-self.  A  rapid,  but  ap- 
parently careless  scrutiny  of  the  guests  assembled, 
showed  her,  however,  that  he  had  not  yet  arrived.  Nor 
did  she  see  him  when  he  quietly  entered  some  moments 
later ;  but  started  nervously  as  he  approached  her  unob- 
served, and  addressed  her. 

'*  Good  evening  I  "  she  returned  gaily,  to  his  low 
greeting.    "  I  did  not  know  you  were  here."' 

"  I  have  but  just  arrived;  you  were  leM  dilatory,  '\ 
seems." 

**  Yes,  but  we  have  not  been  here  long.    Oharliei 


174      THB  UNEXPBOTED  OIFT-TRS  PAJtTT. 

what  did  yon  do  with  mj  fan  ?"  and  her  crimson  cheeks 
fceetified  to  a  necessity  for  its  nse. 

**  I  have  it  here  ;  what  will  you  give  to  redeem  it  J  * 

"  I  do  not  know ;  what  do  you  demand  f " 

Now  Charlie  half  suspected  that  the  bouquet  Bheheld 
WM  the  gift  of  his  presumed  rival,  Eugene  Adair,  and 
feeling  accordingly  jealous,  he  returned  :  "  Something 
that  you  value,  of  course.  Let  me  see  I  Well,  I  wiU 
exchange  for  the  bouquet  you  have  in  yopr  hand." 

Involuntarily  she  glanced  at  the  donor,  who  had 
seated  himself  near  by,  and  her  quick  glance  encoun- 
tered one  as  rapid  and  eloquent.  Charlie  had  seen 
the  significant  look  as  well,  and  convinced  of  what  he 
had  suspected  before,  he  bit  his  lip  with  vexation,  and 
awaited  her  reply.  It  came  after  scarcely  a  moment's 
delay,  in  her  usual  gay  tone  and  manner. 

"  Indeed  1  Mr.  Impertinence,  you  are  modest  in  yoni 
demands!  Capture  ray  fan,  and  then  require  my  bou- 
quet as  a  ransom  1  AVTiat  would  you  do  with  either, 
pray?" 

"  Keep  them  as  a  memento  of  one  I— admire  I "  he 
returned  in  a  low  tone  that  meant  much  more  than  tbe 
words  implied. 

"  How  romantic  1  A  vrithered  bouquet  as  a  relic  1 
Will  you  not  have  a  lock  of  my  hair,  also  ? " 

"  I  should  be  delighted.  Mrs.  Maybury,  will  yon 
oblige  me  with  a  pair  of  scissors  ? " 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself,  Clara  1  Be  so  kind  as  to 
pass  me  Belle's  fan  instead  ;  I  see  she  is  not  using  it" 

Mrs.  Maybury  did  as  requested,  and  Charlie  looked 
■xceedinglj  non-plussed. 


TBB  imsXPEOrED  GIFT-  THE  FABTT.       17l 

"  So  you  will  not  ledeem  your  fan  ? "  h©  Inqmred,  *■ 
ft  somewhat  vexed  tone. 

"  Not  until  you  become  more  moderate  in  your  de* 
tiftuds ;  T  never  encourage  extortioners." 

"  Well,  what  will  yon  give  me,  Berrie  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  care  particularly  about  having  it  jn»t 
now ;  ray  wants  are  supplied,  you  perceive." 

"  I  think  she  has  the  best  of  you  this  time,  Ander- 
son," laughed  Mr.  Wright,  who  sat  near. 

"  I'll  be  even  with  her  yet ;  see  if  I  don^t,  Miae  Ber- 
rte  1 "  returned  Charlie,  in  pretended  desperation. 

"  Who  has  orange-flowers  ?  I  am  sure  I  smell  them," 
said  another  young  gentleman,  taking  %  seat  near  Ber- 
rie which  had  just  been  vacated. 

"  Orange-flowers  ?  is  it  you,  Berrie  ?  "  excjjumed 
Charlie,  bending  above  her  bouquet  before  she  could 
prevent  it,  then  catching  the  hand  which  held  it  "  Let 
me  see !  there  is  such  a  conglomeration  of  odors  that  I 
can't  distinguish  one  from  another." 

Berrie  laughed,  and  blushed,  and  attempted  to  draw 
her  hand  away,  but  Charlie  held  it  firmly,  closely  scm- 
tinizing  the  artistic  arrangement  of  tube-roses,  gerani- 
ums, heliotropes,  and  the  various  blossoms  which  usually 
form  a  hot-house  boquet.  Nearly  in  the  centre,  and 
almost  hidden  by  the  waxen  leaves  of  a  beautiful  yel- 
low rose,  his  sharp  eyes  at  length  discovered  a  tiny  clnft- 
ter  of  the  flo^vers  in  question,  whose  subtle  perfume  had 
betrayed  to  the  sensitive  nasal  organ  of  her  neighbor 
its  presence  in  her  bouquet. 

Gharhe  laughed  significantly  as  he  espied  it,  and 
mnrmored  under  his  breath ;  "  Orange-flowert;,  ek  I  ia 


176      TSM  UNEXPECTED  OlFT  -THE  FASTT. 

Mr.  AdAir'i  bonquet  1  quite  suggestive,  Miss  Berricl " 
then  louder :  "  Since  yuu  will  uot  redeem  yoiu*  fan  witk 
the  whole  bouquet,  you  shall  have  it,  Miss  Burton,  fct 
that  single  cluster  of  orange-blossoras.  Is  it  a  bargam  f  " 
— and  again  lowering  his  voice — "  my  prospective  Jiljni 
Adair?" 

His  meaning  tone  and  laugli,  and  the  conscionsneti 
that  the  eyes  of  the  giver  of  the  nosegay  were  upcn  hei, 
confused  and  irritated  her  extremely,  and  she  heartily 
wished  that  she  had  left  at  home  the  bouquet  which  had 
been  a  cause  of  so  much  annoyance  to  her.  Deliberat- 
ing a  moment  if  she  should  accede  to  his  request,  and 
fearfol  a  refusal  to  do  so  would  but  confirm  his  suspi- 
cions, unwilling,  also,  that  Mr.  Adair  should  think 
that  she  prized  it  so  much  as  to  be  reluctant  to  part 
with  it,  she  returned,  hastily  drawing  the  cluster  out : 
"  It  is  a  bargain,  yes  1  since  you  covet  my  flowers  M 
mnch.    Please  restore  my  fan." 

Charlie  obeyed,  murmuring  again  under  his  breath, 
"  Are  we  even,  Miss  Berrie  ? "  as  Mr.  Adair,  without  a 
glance  at  her,  arose  and  walked  off  to  another  part  of 
the  room. 

8he  did  not  see  him  again  nntil  supper  was  an- 
nonnoed,  when  he  approached  her,  and  asked  permi»- 
iion  to  lead  her  out ;  during  which  the  usual  amounl 
of  light  conversation  was  carried  on,  as  is  general  m 
such  gatherings,  no  one  seeming  to  think  of  talkiiig 
anything  but  nonsense,  and  the  usual  small-talk  of  bo 
ciety. 

When  they  returned  to  the  parlors,  he  led  her  to  a 
iMiiewhat  leclndcd  seat,  and  took  hii  place  beaijde  herj 


UKEXPEOTED  OIVT-TRB  PABTT.      177 

kopin^  for  a  few  momenta'  quiet  conversation,  anch  M 
lie  HaJ  not  enjoyed  with  her  feince  his  return. 

"I  must  thank  yon,  Mr.  Adair,  for  the  handsome 
gift  I  received  from  you  to-day ;  but  I  think  you  pro- 
•omed  a  little  on  my  promise  to  accept  yoor  flowers," 
■mUingly. 

"  I  am  Borry  if  you  do ;  I  had  no  intention  of  doing 
to,  I  agsTire  yon." 

"  I  presume  notl  but  I  certainly  should  not  have  said 
yes  to  your  request,  had  I  known  that  what  I  supposed 
would  be  a  spray  of  flowers,  was  anything  so  beautiful 
ftnd  costly." 

"  And  why  should  you  not  accept  the  one  as  readily 
as  the  other?" 

"  On  account  of  a  natural  aversion  to  receiving  gifts 
from  gentlemen,  1  suppose,"  laughingly.  "  To  say 
nothing  of  its  being  a  breach  of  etiquette  to  do  so." 

"  Circumstances  alter  cases,  Berrie,  and  I  am  sure 
you  need  not  be  averse  to  receive  such  a  trifle  from  one 
you  h2L\e  jpromised  to  regard  as  a  friend." 

"  Well," — a  little  confused  at  the  resumption  of  his 
old  tender  manner  and  intonation — "  It  is  beautiful,  and 
I  thank  you  very  much,  at  all  events." 

He  bowed  in  acknowledgement,  and  returned :  "  1 
am  BuflBciently  rewarded  by  seeicg  it  where  I  so  much 
desired  to.     It  becomes  you  regally,  Berrie  1 " 

"  Yes  I  "  smiling  and  blushing.  "  Belle  said  it  looked 
tery  nicely." 

"It  does  indeed  1"  and  the  eloquent  ejes  of  hei 
companion  expressed  more  admiration  than  his  words. 

"  I  saw  it  at  a  jeweller's  in  Washington,"  he  contiv 
i* 


171      TSM  XmSlPEOlSD  OIFT-TSB  PABTT 

■•d ;  "and  thonglit  at  once  of  raj  holly- berry  friend  iB 
BriBtol,  and  I  could  not  resist  purchasing  it,  hoping 
•he  wonld  not  think  rae  presuming  on  our  friendship, 
If  I  presented  it  to  her."  And  his  old  sweet  smile 
touched  her  heart  with  a  renewal  of  the  old  thrilling 
plbasore 

"  I  am  glad  you  thought  of  me  I  'Tis  sweet  to  be 
remembered,  yon  know."  With  bent  head  and  crimson 
cheeks. 

"  I  do  know  it,  I  assure  you ;  but  you  could  not  think 
I  should  not  remember  yon,  though  ever  so  far  away, 
could  yoa,  my  little  girl  I  I  do  not  forget  mj/riends 
BO  easily." 

Mrs.  Maybury's  approach  prevented  her  repljnng,  to 
his  regret,  and  her  exceeding  relief. 

"  Berrie,  come  and  sing  for  us,  won't  you  please ! " 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  sing  to-night ;  please  do  not  ask  me.*^ 

"  I  wish  you  would  ;  several  of  my  guests  have  re- 
quested that  1  would  ask  you." 

"  I  would  like  to  oblige  you,  Clara,  hrit  I  really  could 
not  sing  to-night.  I  will  accompany  any  one  eke  that 
wishes  to,  if  you  like." 

"  Very  well  1  I  must  excuse  you,  I  guppoie.  I  will 
ask  Miss  Munroe,  if  you  will  play  for  her." 

"  I  will  with  pleasure." 

When  she  arose  from  the  piano,  Mr.  Adair,  being 
urged  on  every  hand  for  a  song,  took  her  place,  while 
*hrt  sat  down  in  the  nearest  vacant  seat,  a  large  easy- 
chair  by  the  win  low,  a\  the  end  of  the  iritrument,  and 
of  oonrM  in  fall  view  oi  the  occupant  of  the  piAug 
ftooL 


VlfEXPEOTED  OTFT-TUE  PABTT.       179 

A  short  prelude,  and  with  eyes  fixed  dreamily  en  tb« 
£»oe  of  the  girl  he  loved, — eyes  that  seemed  in  harmony 
with  the  words  on  his  lips, — he  sang  the  be»utifo] 
Bp«Dish  air  by  an  English  composer,  "  Jnanitu," 

**  Soft  o*er  the  fonntain, 

Ling'rmg  falls  the  Southem  mooa, 
Far  o*er  the  monntaia, 

BreakB  the  day  too  soon  I 
In  thy  dark  eyes'  splendor, 

'Where  the  warm  light  loves  to  dw«Il, 
Weary  looks,  yet  tender, 

Bpeak  their  fond  farewell  I 
Kite  1  Joanita  I 

Ask  thy  soul  if  we  should  part, 
Nita!  Jnanital 

I  thou  on  my  heart  I 


♦'  When  in  thy  dreamings, 

Moons  like  these  shall  shine 
And  daylight  beaming, 

Prove  thy  dreams  are  rain, 
Wilt  thou  not,  relenting. 

For  thine  absent  lover  sigh, 
In  fhy  heart  consenting 

To  a  prayer  gone  by  f 
Nital  Jnanital 

Let  me  linger  bj  thy  side, 
Nita!  Jnanital 

Be  my  own  fair  bride !  ** 

^iad  he  spoken  the  same  sentiments  in  the  pure  proM 
ri  common  conversation,  when  there  was  no  one  els©  to 
listen,  they  would  not  have  dropped  more  completely 
hito  her  heart  than  they  now  did ;  and  had  they  be©L 
written  expressly  for  him,  they  could  not  have  bettei 


180      TOS  UNEXPEOTSD   OTFT-  THE  PASTY. 

lerved  hi*  purpose.  There  was  a  look  in  his  face  which 
•he  h»d  never  seen  there  but  r Tice — the  night  preced- 
ing hiB  departure  for  Washington — a  look  which  gave 
a  double  significance  to  the  pertinent  words,  and  told 
her  as  plainly  aa  possible  that  she  was  loved.  Again, 
as  on  that  evening  so  well  remembered,  her  heart  beat 
high  with  hope,  and  felt  in  every  part  the  sweetneas  of 
a  reciprocal  affection ;  and  though  her  eyes  dropped 
beneath  the  ardor  of  his  gaze,  its  fascination  drew  them 
again  and  again  to  encounter  it,  until  the  sweet  tale 
^aa  completely  told,  the  happy  lesson  entirely  and  per* 
foctly  learned. 

**  And  thia  la  ui  old  fairy  tale  of  the  heart  t 
At  ia  told  in  all  lands  in  a  different  tongue: 
Told  with  tean  by  the  old,  heard  with  smilee  by  tha  TOSBf, 
And  the  tale  to  each  heart  onto  which  it  ia  known, 
B[aa  a  different  sense." 

The  song  was  ended,  and  no  persuasions  could  pre* 
rail  upon  him  to  sing  again.  lie  had  sung  with  a 
purpose,  and  for  one  ear  alone;  th*t  ear  had  hoard, 
that  purpose  was  accomplished,  and  ha  would  aing  no 
more. 

As  he  arose.  Belle  approached  he,  siiter,  and  said  in 
a  low  tone,  "  I  have  a  severe  Wdache,  Berrie,  and 
think  I  will  go  home.  Are  yo«i  ready  to  go  now  ?  if 
not,  Mr.  Wright  will  accomp«j»y  me,  and  I  will  send 
the  carriage  back.  I  dare  »ay  Mr.  Adiur  or  Charlie 
would  be  glad  to  see  you  safely  home." 

"  I  am  ready,  and  only  too  glad  to  go  at  once,"  and 
quietly  bidding  their  hostess  good-«vet)idg  they  left  the 
roouL 


THS  tmBXPBOTBD  OIFT-TRB  PABTT,      181 

When  they  came  downstairs  a  few  monientf  later, 
Mr.  Wright  and  Mr.  Adair  weie  waiting  in  the  hall 
»nd  as  thej  handed  them  to  the  carriage  the  l*ttet 
asked:  "Will  you  be  at  home  to-morrow  eyenin^, 
voung  ladies  1 " 

"  I  presume  so,  yes  I  will  you  come  up  ?  **  replied 
Belle,  while  Berrie  kept  silence. 

"  Thank  you.  I  propose  to  do  so,  if  agreeable  to 
yau.  I  shall  have  some  news  to  tell  you,"  with  a  pres- 
iure  of  Berrie's  hand,  and  slight  emphasis  on  the  last 
word. 

"  We  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  you ;  good-night  I " 
and  the  gentlemen  closing  the  door,  the  carriage  rolled 
rapidly  away. 

No  tears  in  Berrie's  eyes  or  heart  that  night  I  Only 
a  touch  of  "  hojpis  fruition " — the  tremulous  joy  ol 
happy  anticipation,  the  sweet  consciousness  of  renewed 
conlidence  in  the  loved  one's  truth  and  affection,  the 
thrilling  remembrance  of  the  last  hour's  silent  com- 
munion. 

With  eyes  and  lips  smiling  dreamily,  she  carefully 
locked  the  drooping  bouquet,  about  which  there  had 
been  so  much  ado,  in  a  drawer  of  her  bureau ;  and  dis* 
engaging  from  her  tumbled  ringlets  the  lovely  cluster 
of  holly-berries,  as  bright  and  beautiful  as  when  they 
were  pUced  there  hours  before,  she  gazed  at  them  a 
few  moments  with  many  a  loving  thought  of  the  giver, 
then  laid  them  carefully  away  in  their  casket,  and  soon 
with  weary  head,  but  a  buoyant  heart,  she  had  stepped 
•crou  the  borders  of  the  mystic  'land  of  dreama. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

A  OBUKL  DISAPPOINTMENT — "l  LOT!   YOVJ* 

"Jubflate!  I  am  loved  I 
And  hlfl  lips  at  length  hare  aaid  It; 
Long  since  in  his  eyes  I  read  it, 
But  I  thought  it  could  not  be, — 
Oh  1  what  happiness  for  me ! " 


••  TU  oonfloioosness  of  being  lored,  softens  the  keenert  paoff,  mfm 
III  the  moment  of  parting. 

ADDIflOir. 


^MJ  ^^^^^  ^*d  come  again,  and  a  happy  qnap- 
^^v  tette  was  gathered  in  the  familiar  roomB  of  the 
<^*r5^  Burtons. 

Although  the  first  week  in  October  was  past,  it  wm 
an  exceedingly  oppressive  evening,  a  significant  re- 
minder of  the  sultry  midsummer  nights,  long  ago 
bound  in  the  sheaves  of  the  past.  The  artist  hand 
of  autumn  had  not  touched  with  his  skilful  pencil  and 
glowing  colors,  the  canvas  of  nature,  but  the  verdant 
hues  with  which  fair  summer  had  sketched  the  picture 
were  still  alone  presented  to  the  eyes.     K'ng  Frost, 


*♦/  LOVJS  rou."  181 

•till  delaying  his  coming,  Lad  not  yet  bowed  th6 
headB  of  the  late  flowers  that  bloomed  in  the  garden*  of 
moet  of  the  cosy  Bristol  homes,  or  strewn  the  ground 
with  the  dead  leaves  of  the  departing  year. 

Breathing  the  balmy  air  of  the  glorious  night,  listen 
Ing  to  the  sigh  of  the  gentle  breeze  through  the  still 
heavUy-foliaged  trees,  one  found  it  difficult  to  believf 
that  the  golden  summer  time  was  past,  and  that 

'^  The  melonohc^j  dayi  had  oome, 
The  saddest  of  the  year ; " 

the  time  for  the  departure  of  the  birds,  the  death  oi 
the  flowers,  the  chilling  storms  that  attend  the  decay 
of  the  hoary  old  year. 

To  Bern©  the  night  seemed  perfect  I  all  its  natural 
beauty  enhanced  by  the  rosy  lenses  through  which  she 
was  looking.  In  after  years,  the  recurrence  of  such  an 
evening  would  cause  her  to  open  her  casket,  in  which 
memory  had  enshrined  the  record  of  this  peerless,  in- 
toxicating night,  and  with  a  sad  delight  to  "  read  back- 
ward "  the  beautiful,  glowing  pages  of  the  past. 

Berrie  was  bright,  lively,  coquettish,  and  decidedly 
looking  her  best ;  for  happiness  had  touched  her  with 
his  beautifying  wand,  and  her  fair  face  shone  with  an 
added  grace  and  charm. 

"  By  the  way,  I  believe  you  said  you  had  some  newa 
to  tell  us,  Mr.  Adair ;  it  is  pleasant,  I  hope  1 "  remarked 
Belle,  in  a  pause  of  the  conversation. 

"  I  have  some  news,  but  whether  it  is  pleasant  of 
not,  I  leave  for  jon  to  decide;  it  is  not  entirely  lo  to 
me." 


184  '*!  LOVB   YOU." 

"  Do  tell  ns  what  it  is ;  T  am  all  curiosity  to  kncrWi* 
Uughingly.     "  Aren't  you,  Berrie  ? " 

"  Oh  certainly  1 "  she  returned  smiling. 

"  It  is  nothing  of  much  importance,  save  to  mys©l£. 
I  bid  farewell  to  Bristol  to-morrow,  and  sail  for  Enrop* 
the  last  of  next  week." 

He  looked  at  Berrie  as  he  spoke,  who  grew  whitt 
to  the  very  lips  at  this  sudden  communication  of  what 
at  any  time  would  have  caused  her  unmitigated  an 
guish. 

Pity  for  the  girl's  pain  was  mingled  in  the  man*i 
heart  with  an  ecstatic  assurance  that  she  loved  him, 
but  neither  was  manifest  in  his  manner  as  he  turned 
from  her  to  Belle,  when  the  latter  remarked  :  "  Indeed  I 
we  are  very  sorry  to  have  you  go." 

"  Not  more  so  than  I  am  to  leave,  I  assure  you.  I 
have  passed  an  exceedingly  pleasant  summer,  thanki 
to  the  kindness  of  you  and  your  family." 

"  Oh,  do  not  speak  of  it !  I  am  sure  the  pleasure  has 
been  mutual ;  and  I  trust  you  will  not  entirely  forget 
us  in  your  sojourn  in  a  foreign  land." 

"  That  I  can  never  do,  believe  me.  I  do  not  forgei 
my  friends  so  easily." 

Just  what  he  had  said  to  her  alone,  the  previoni 
evening.  She  was  only  a  friend,  then,  after  all.  "  Gk>d 
pity  me!"  she  thought;  "how  can  I  live  through  all 
the  years  to  come  ? "  as  she  listened  in  silent  agony  to 
the  conversation  in  which  she  could  not  have  taken  a 
part; — listened,  while  all  the  fairy  caat'es  which  delu 
live  Hope  had  reared  crumbled  and  fell  at  her  feet,  a 
of  ihapelees  ruins.    Thia,  then,  vraa  "  hope's  £mi< 


**i  Lovw  toxt:  \U 

tfon  t  *  Angnigh  and  disappoiutment  1  flh©  oonld  nerer 
hope  again. 

"  How  long  do  you  intend  being  absent  ? "  continued 
Belle, 

"  I  have  a  government  appointment  which  will  neceft* 
litate  a  stay  of  three  years  at  least ;  possibly  five.** 

"  So  long  ?  then  we  may  bid  you  farewell  for  ever, 
I  think ;  you  surely  could  not  remember  us  for  such  a 
lime." 

"  Do  not  think  it  1  you  are  mistaken,  I  am  sure." 

So  long  I  down  fell  another  hope,  and  she  lived  agei 
in  the  few  moments  of  that  brief  conversation ;  looking 
with  darkening  eyes  into  the  vista  of  the  coming  years, 
realizdng  that  her  love  had  been  utterly  thrown  away, 
unsought  and  imdesired,  fondly  as  she  had  imagined  to 
the  contrary ;  shuddering  at  thought  of  the  time  to 
come  in  which  she  must  carry  such  a  heavy,  heavy 
burden,  hoping  for  no  relief  until  death  should  merci- 
fully still  the  heart  which  must  henceforth  beat  in  tte 
silent  anguish  of  despair. 

For  a  time  she  forgot  everything  but  the  ruin  of  her 
hopes ;  but  at  last  pride  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  Be  on 
your  guard  1  do  not  let  him  know  how  you  suffer  from 
Lis  indifference  ;  do  not  let  him  and  others  see  that  you 
have  loved  unsought  and  unreturned.  Can  you  not 
act  a  part  for  one  brief  evening  % " 

"  Brief  1 "  her  heart  responded  "  it  will  be  endleu 
in  its  torturing  duration." 

But  pride's  suggestion  was  not  unheeded ;  for  with 
on©  mighty  effort  of  will,  one  agonizing  but  silent 
prayer  for  help  to  Him  who  alone  can  succor,  tha 


.jlf  **i  LOTB  rou* 

blood  rushed  back  to  her  previonaly  colorless  cheek, 
and  she  forced  herself  to  speak  gaily  on  the  very  mh- 
ject  which  was  causing  her  such  torturing  pain.  Truly, 
"  Where  is  the  woman  that  cannot  act  a  part  1 " 

"  So  you  are  really  going  abroad  I  To  England  <m 
the  Continent  ? " 

He  turned  quickly,  surprised  at  the  cheerful  tone  and 
words ;  for  he  had  mercifully  refrained  from  looking 
at  her  since  the  first  announcement  of  his  intended 
deparrtnre. 

"  So  she  has  fought  it  out  in  these  few  brief  mo- 
ments I "  he  thought,  admiringly.  "  She  is  my  own 
brave  little  girl ;  how  can  I  leave  her  1 " 

"To  both  I"  he  replied  quietly,  to  her  question 
"  First  to  England,  then  the  Continent.  I  am  sent  to 
Venice  permanently." 

"  To  '  Beautiful  Venice,  Isle  of  the  Sea  1 '  You 
must  be  so  glad  to  go  I  " 

He  smiled  sadly,  reproachfully,  it  seemed  to  her. 
"  Glad  so  far  as  the  future  is  concerned  ;  exceedingly 
sorry  for  the  present.  It  is  very  bitter,  the  parting 
from  dear  friends  for  so  long." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  1  but  new  faces  and  new  soen«i  wiB 
ioon  wear  off  the  pain." 

"  To  some  it  might,  perhaps  ;  but  I  am  not  so  ficklCj 
.Itnd  find  it  hard  to  forget  those  for  whom  I  care." 

"I  suppose  we  shall  hear  from  you  sometimes,  di 
rectly  or  indirectly  ? "  said  Belle. 

**  I  presume  so,  althoiigh  I  am  not  a  very  good  corre- 
spondent But  I  shaJl  doubtless  write  to  Mr.  Wrighl 
»ow  and  then,  and  thuw*  I  dare  say  you  will  hear." 


"i  LOVE  yo(t:*  Itt 

Mr.  Adair  had  been  wondering  how  he  shoxild  nuui* 
igo  to  see  Berrle  alone  for  a  few  moments,  to  decide 
hLi  fate,  and  ease  her  lieart  of  the  pain  he  knew  w»« 
piercing  it,  when  Ilattie  entered,  exclaiming :  "  Berrie, 
pa  wants  you  to  go  to  the  post-office  ;  his  head  aches  8C 
hard  he  says  he  cannot  go  up." 

"  Very  well !  Hattie,  come  speak  to  Mr.  Adair ;  h« 
18  going  away  to-morrow." 

"  Not  to  come  back  any  more  ? " 

"  Not  for  a  long  time.  Miss  Hattie  1  I  shall  cross  the 
blue  water  before  I  see  you  again.  Are  you  not  sorry  I " 

"  Yes,  I  am  real  sorry  1     Are  you  going  to  Europe  f  *' 

"  Yes,  to  Italy  1    Won't  you  go  with  me  f " 

"  I  am  afraid  ma  wouldn't  let  me.  Will  you  be  here 
again  next  summer  ? " 

"  I  fear  not,  my  child ;  not  for  three  or  four  summere. 
But  you  won't  forget  your  friend,  will  you  f  " 

"  Oh  no,  of  course  not  I  " 

"  You  will  be  a  line  young  lady,  I  suppose,  by  the 
time  I  return,  and  I  shall  not  be  permitted  to  pull  your 
curls  any  more  ;  but  see  that  you  do  not  forget  me." 

"  Bring  me  my  hat  and  shawl,  won't  you,  Hattie 
dear?" 

"Yes,  Berrie  I"  and  she  left  the  room,  retaming 
iOOD  with  the  desired  articles. 

"  I  may  accompany  you,  I  suppose  ? "  said  Mr.  Adair 
rising  as  she  placed  her  hat  on  her  head. 

«  Yes,  if  you  like  I  " 

"  It  is  such  a  beautiful  evening,  and  my  last  as  irell^ 
do  not  be  alarmed,  Miss  Burton,  if  I  dd  not  briag  youf 
nster  back  immediately.'' 


118  **I  LOVB  TOVJ' 

Bell©  Bmiled,  and  returned  inischievcaEly ;  "  Bull 
jTourselves ;  only  don't  let  Berrie  sprain  hor  ankl«  agun 
Mr.  Adair." 

"  I  will  take  care  she  does  not !  " 

Berrie  was  ill  at  ease,  but  slie  rattled  on  in  the  moit 
gay  and  lively  manner,  giving  her  companion  eg  op- 
portmiity  to  talk  aught  but  nonsense,  had  he  desired. 
They  called  at  the  office  and  received  the  eveninjr'  mcil, 
then  passed  on  down  Hope  Street,  until  tlie  waters  of 
the  bay  in  a  heaving  sheen  of  beauty  lay  stretched  be- 
fore them. 

The  brilliance  of  the  full  moon  lighted  up  the  whole 
scene  with  rare  distinctness,  and  added  beautifying 
touches  to  the  ever  lovely  face  of  the  girl,  whose  hand 
rested  so  lightly  on  the  arm  of  her  companion.  The 
hand  was  small,  soft,  and  ungloved,  and  looked  like 
sculptured  marble  in  contrast  with  the  sleeve  on  which 
it  reposed. 

He  laid  his  disengaged  hand  upon  it,  with  a  gentle 
pressure  which  was  not  resisted,  and  said :  "  So  you  are 
not  sorry  I  am  going  away,  Berrie  1 " 

Berrie  felt  she  did  not  care  to  discuss  that  questio*, 
but  returned,  "  Why  certainly  I  am  1  "Why  should  I 
not  be  ? — Have  you  noticed  that  sail  in  the  distance  1 
See  how  beautiful  it  looks,  touched  by  the  moonlight*" 

"  It  has  just  come  in  view,  has  it  not  9  I  had  ml 
noticed  it  previously." 

"  I  think  it  has,  yes  1 " 

"  Do  you  realize  that  I  shall  be  seen  gliding  over  C^^t 
'  bounding  billow,'  while  the  same  moonlight  whitMi 
the  Muli  of  the  barque  that  bea^  me  far  away  t  ^ 


''I  LOVE  Your  Iff 

*  Tee  I  **  she  returned,  low  and  quietly. 

"  And  shall  I  carry  with  ire  the  regrets  of  my  little 
friend  for  the  close  of  '  our  brief  and  perished  inter- 
aouree,'  and  her  kind  remembrance  of  one  who  feeli 
the  pain  of  parting  more  than  he  can  say  ? " 

"  Oh,  of  course  I "  she  returned  a  little  bitterly.  "  Ai 
you  have  said, '  I  do  not  forget  my  friends  bo  easily.' 
The  tide  is  rising,  is  it  not  ?  " 

«  I  think  it  is!** 

"  How  musical  is  the  sound  of  the  lapping  waTes,  m 
they  advance,  and  then  recede." 

"  Do  you  remember  what  Alexander  Smith  layi  ©f 
the  flowing  of  the  sea  ? " 

"  No !  can  you  not  tell  me  ?  " 

"  '^ — Th«  bridegroom  eea 
la  toyiii^  with  the  ehore,  his  wedded  brid* ; 
Aod  in  the  fulness  of  his  marriage  joj, 
He  decorates  her  tawny  brow  with  sheila, 
Retires  a  pace  to  see  how  fair  she  look*, 
Then,  prooid,  runs  up  to  kiss  her.'" 

"  Thanks  1  what  a  pretty  conceit  I"  she  returned 
"Do  you  like  the  sea?" 

"  Yes,  in  all  its  moods,  coquettish  as  it  is  1  and  yon  I  ^ 

""  I  scarcely  know  1  I  love  to  stand  on  the  shore  and 
watch  the  waves  rush  up  to  my  feet,  each  one  attempt 
Ing  to  outleap  the  other." 

The  western  wind  blew  fresh  and  strong  where  they 
were  standing,  playing  with  her  flowing  drapery,  totsinn 
wantonly  the  masses  of  silken  curls,  crowned  by  a  oo 
qnettiah  little  hat,  and  blowing 


IfO  "I  LOVB  10C7.* 

•*  — A  color  bright  as  the  bloom 
Of  the  pinkest  fuchsia's  tossing  ploma, 
All  oyer  the  cheeks  of  the  prettiest  giri 
That  ever  imprisoned  a  romping  ourL" 

At  least  BO  thought  Mr.  Adair,  as  he  watched  her  io 
filence,  while  with  averted  head  she  stood  gazing  far 
t^nt  to  sea,  apparently  rapt  with  the  beauty  of  the 
scene,  in  reality  struggling  to  keep  down  the  rising  tide 
of  grief,  that,  with  such  mournful  monotone,  rose  and 
fell  in  her  heart,  bearing  on  its  incoming  waves  the 
echo  of  a  sad  farewell. 

After  a  silence  of  some  moments,  he  remarked  softly, 
and  somewhat  sadly :  "  How  a  few  short  months  can 
change  the  whole  tenor  of  a  life  1 " 

Berrie  shivered  with  pain  at  the  thought  of  the  rav- 
age they  had  made  in  hers,  but  felt  she  had  not  the 
wish  or  courage  to  talk  of  it,  and  avoiding  the  danger- 
ous ground,  replied  irrelevantly :  "  The  air  is  rather 
chilly  here  ;  let  us  walk  on,  please  1  "  and  with  a  little 
sigh  at  his  want  of  success  in  approaching  the  sthjec* 
near  his  heart,  he  complied  with  her  request,  and  they 
walked  on,  turning  up  a  cross  street,  and  pursuing  their 
■troll  on  the  one  above. 

Long  periods  of  silence  were  followed  by  the  most 
trifling  and  commonplace  conversation,  while  each 
heart  was  beating  heavily  and  painfully  in  realization 
chat  these  swiftly  speeding  moments  were  the  last  they 
should  spend  together,  ere  they  parted  to  meet  no  more , 
for  years,  and  possibly  never. 

Oh  1  that  bitter,  bitter  word  1  As  it  rang  londly  in 
ber  ean,  like  an  echo  to  the  desolating  word,  flo«ted  bo 


«/  LOVB  TOV.^  Itl 

her  memory  a  familiar  passage  from  her  farorite 
"  "Wanderer," — that  little  volume  m  full  of  heart  breath-- 
inga,  which  find  a  response  in  many  a  strickeB  sooL — 

**  PwohanoQ  on  earth  I  shall  not  see  thee  erer, 
Erer  •gain ;  and  my  unwritten  years 
Are  signed  ont  by  that  desolating  never^ 
And  blurred  with  tears. 
*  Tia  luud,  so  yonng — so  young  as  I  am  atill, 
To  feel  foreTermore  from  life  depart 
All  that  can  flatter  the  poor  human  will, 
Or  ftU  the  heart." 

ThoB  they  walked  along,  each  acting  a  part,  and  en< 
deavoring  to  hide  the  emotions  which  were  swelling  at 
both  their  hearts,  until,  as  they  emerged  from  the  shadow 
of  the  massive  trees  whic?/  shade  the  streets  of  this  fine 
old  town,  they  were  startled  to  note  how  dark  it  had 
grown,  and  looking  upwards,  found  that  the  heavens 
were  fast  being  ovei-spread  by  the  heavy  black  clouds, 
and  a  sudden  storm  was  evidently  threatening. 

Berrie's  hold  of  her  companion's  arm  was  tightened, 
as  she  exclaimed :  "  Do  let  us  make  haste,  Mr.  Adair  I 
I  am  terribly  afraid  in  a  thunder-storm,"  and  her  ner- 
vous trembling  verified  her  words. 

"  l^o  not  be  alarmed,  Berrie  ;  I  think  we  shall  reach 
your  home  before  the  storm  overtakes  us  ;  if  not  there 
is  a  God  above,  and  He  can  keep  us  safely,  wherever 
we  are." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that,  but  I  am  wretchedly  frightened 
nevertheless." 

They  hastened  onward  as  rapidly  as  the  girl's  trem 
bling  limbt  would  permit,  but  they  were  some  distance 


iM  ''I  LOVE  roo." 

from  home,  and  the  heavy  clouds  above  were  frei^tedl 
with  one  of  those  sudden  tempests  which  sometimei 
ffweep  with  each  fury  over  the  town. 

They  had  just  reached  a  church  in  the  southern 
portion  of  the  town,  when  the  storm  burst.  Mr.  ^.daii 
drew  the  frightened  girl  up  the  steps  of  the  church, 
whose  porch  afforded  them  a  comfortable  shelter,  while 
the  wind  howled  and  moaned  through  the  swaying 
trees,  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  flash  after  flash  of 
lurid  lightning  parted  the  tumbling  clouds  over  head, 
followed  by  deafening  peals  of  thunder,  which  echoed 
and  reverberated  through  the  empty  aisles  of  the 
church. 

The  poor  girl  was  dumb  with  nervoua  terror,  and 
clin^ng  closely  to  the  arm  of  her  companion,  involun- 
tarily hid  her  face  against  his  shoulder,  starting  afl^right- 
edly  at  every  fresh  peal  of  "  heaven's  booming  artillery.** 

Mr.  Adair  used  every  effort  and  argument  to  soothe 
her,  without  reply  or  apparent  effect,  and  at  last,  un- 
heeded, drew  the  trembling  form  within  his  arms,  and 
pressed  the  bowed  head  to  his  bosom.  Thus  they  stood 
until  the  might  of  the  storm  was  spent,  and  as  the 
tempest  gradually  lulled,  Berrie's  terror  subsided,  uid 
she  became  aware  of  the  tender  clasp  in  which  she  was 
held. 

At  first  it  seemed  to  her  she  was  treading  the  witch- 
ing mazes  of  a  dream ;  and  lest  the  blissful  scene 
should  dissolve,  and  leave  but  the  cold  despair  of  the 
previous  hour,  she  fc>rbore  to  stir,  until  at  last  he  mup 
mured :  "  Berrie,  my  love,  the  storm  is  nearly  over,  and 
joa  »re  safe  in  my  arms,  while  underneath  us  both  ar« 


*"!  LOVS  TOU?  If  a 

tk«  ercrlastiit;!,  arras  of  our  Heavenly  Fathier,  who 
haa  brought  us  aafely  througli  the  perils  of  the  tempest. 
Will  you  not  look  up  and  speak  to  me,  little  girl  I " 

Hia  tones  were  tremulous  with  passion,  and  hifl  arms 
•till  held  her  close  to  his  throbbing  heart,  whose  every 
pulsation  beat  audibly  fe^jjcinst  her  cheek,  which  waa  al- 
coet  pressed  against  it ;  but  hope  had  already  twice 
ieceived  her,  and  she  dared  not  trust  to  her  seductive 
wiles  again  ;  therefore  she  merely  answered  deprecat- 
sngly,  and  attempting  to  withdraw  from  his  clasp :  "  I 
am  afraid  I  have  been  very  foolish,  Mr.  Adair ;  but  I 
cannot  help  being  terribly  frightened  in  a  thundor- 
Btorm,  and  have  scarcely  any  control  over  my  sensitlT* 
nerves." 

But  he  only  drew  her  closer,  saying  with  a  sharp 
ring  of  pain  in  his  voice ;  "  Do  not  shrink  from  mo, 
Berrie ;  let  me  hold  you  here  in  the  few  brief  moments 
left  to  us,  and  while  we  thus  stand  heart  to  heart,  tell 
me  that  all  my  passionate,  undying  love  for  you  is  re- 
ciprocated— that  I  have  not  presumed  in  telling  you 
that  all  the  world  contains  nothing  so  precious  to  me  as 
this  little  girl  I  hold  in  my  arms." 

It  was  true  then,  and  he  did  love  her,  after  all  I 
All  the  cruel  torture  she  had  suffered  for  the  past  few 
weeks  had  been  for  naught,  and  at  last  she  had  the  cer- 
tain consciousness  of  knowing  that  even  as  she  had 
loved,  was  she  loved. 

He  held  her  now  unresisting ;  but  her  joy  was  to« 
deep  for  words,  for 

*'  It  is  with  feelings  as  with  waters — 

The  shallow  mnriKar,  but  the  deep  are  dmih.'' 
9 


If4  "/  LOVE   TOV.' 

He  waited  a  ra  Jineiit  for  a  reply,  but  it  c&me  only  1b 
%  closer  nestling  of  the  lovely  face  against  his  shonlder, 
and  resting  his  cheek  against  Lers,  he  said  aoftly: 
"  You  do  love  me,  Berrie  !  I  read  it  in  your  white  faoa 
to-night  when  I  told  you  I  was  going  away.  Fate  if 
cruel  to  part  us  just  as  it  truly  unites  nfl,  Ib  it  net, 
love  ? " 

The  agonizing  thought  of  parting  restored  her  voice, 
and  she  murmured  pleadingly :  "  Oh,  must  yon  go, 
Mr.  Adair  ? " 

"  Do  not  be  so  formal ;  can  you  not  say  Eugene  in 
the  little  time  left  us  ?  for  although  it  breaks  my  heart 
to  leave  you,  Berrie,  I  must  go.  Had  I  known  a  month 
ago  that  you  loved  me,  I  might  have  made  different 
arrangements ;  but  I  did  not  dare  believe  it,  for  the 
yery  evening  before  I  was  called  away  I  meant  to  try 
my  fate,  but  you  were  so  distant  and  cool,  it  shattered 
what  little  hope  1  possessed,  and  I  left,  meaning  never 
to  let  you  know  how  passionately  I  worshipped  you. 
But  you  and  love  were  too  much  for  me,  my  darling, 
and  I  have  my  reward."  And  he  bent  his  lips  to  hen 
m  the  lirst  caress  of  an  acknowledged  and  mutual  affeo- 
tion. 

"  Everybody  teased  me  so  about  you,"  she  murmured, 
'*  and  watched  every  motion  and  look  of  mine." 

"  I  dare  say,  but  they  could  not  keep  us  apart,  after 
all,  could  they,  dear  ?  It  will  be  very  hard  to  leave 
you,  but  my  w.  trd  is  pledged  and  I  must  ga  I  will  not 
bind  you  by  any  promises  or  vows.  You  are  very 
young,  and  though  I  believe,  and  you  think  that  yon  love 
me,  we  may  both  be  mistaken,  and  you  may  yet  sec 


''1  LOVE   TOV.''  IM 

•ome  one  you  much  prefer  to  me  ;  80  I  wish  y®u  »  bi 
entirely  free,  for  I  cou.d  not  take  to  my  heart  an  hD" 
willing  wife.  As  for  me,  I  have  lived  long  enough, 
and  been  sufficiently  tried  to  know  something  of  my 
.own  heart,  therefore  I  know  what  I  am  saying  when  1 
tell  you  that  my  love  for  you  can  never  change ;  but  J 
Buffered  too  deeply  once  from  another's  mistaken  affec- 
tion, to  take  your  happiness  into  my  keeping,  without 
being  assured  that  I  am  capable  of  making  it.  Do  not 
think  me  cold  or  suspicious,  Berrie  ;  believe  me,  you 
will  never  be  more  passionately  loved  than  by  me,  and 
that  I  suspect  you  of  nothing  but  what  is  pure  and 
true ;  but  no  one  can  know  his  capabilities  until  they 
have  been  tried  and  proved,  therefore  it  is  well,  per 
haps,  although  so  bitter  for  both  of  us  that  we  should 
part  for  a  time.  Look  forward  to  '  hope's  fruition,'  my 
love,  and  when  we  meet,  let  it  be  as  we  part,  hand  to 
hand,  and  heart  to  heart." 

"  We  m'lRt  gcr  Mr.  Adair — " 

"  Mr.  Adair?''  he  interposed. 

"  Eugene  ! ''  she  shyly  corrected.  "  It  ifl  growing 
late,  and  ma  will  be  worried.  I  think  it  does  not  rain 
much  now." 

They  passed  down  the  steps  of  the  churcli,  and  he 
continued :  "  I  shall  write  you  sometimes,  if  I  can  dis- 
«iver  any  way  of  getting  my  letters  to  you,  without 
exciting  comment  or  badinage.  I  would  not  have  my 
little  girl  subjected  to  any  annoyance  which  I  could 
prevent,  and  though  I  have  nothing  to  conceal,  and 
leave  it  with  you  tr  do  as  you  like  in  the  matter,  per^ 
baps  under  the  circumstancea  it  would  be  best  to  sajf 


IM  "I  LO}E  YOU." 

nothing  of  oar  mutual  afFection  nuM  I  letum,  and  tAtm 
— think  what  that  means,  Berrie,  if  God  keepe  na  safely 
•nd  true." 

**  I  would  much  prefer  that  nothing  ehould  be  said 
of  it.  I  cannot  bear  teasing,  particuliirly  about  one  1 
care  for." 

"  And  Berrie,  love,  you  will  think  of  the  wandere? 
very  often,  will  you  not  ? " 

The  girl's  eyes  filled  vvith  tears  in  the  darkness  as  she 
murmured,  "  Every  day,  and  every  hour,  Eugene  I " 

"  God  bless  you  1  "  he  returned,  earnestly,  pressing 
the  little  hand  that  nestled  close  in  his  own. 

"  I  meant  to  tell  you  something  of  my  past,  and  of 
my  future  prospects  as  well,  but  there  is  no  time  thii 
evening.  I  will  write  you  all  necessary  particulars  on 
the  passage  over,  and  send  it  when  I  reach  my  destina- 
tion, Venice.  If  we  had  only  met  a  year  ago,  that  1 
might  take  you  with  me,  my  peerless  Berrie  I  But 
here  we  are  at  home ;  bid  me  good-by  before  wo  go 
in,  my  love,"  and  he  took  her  again  in  his  arms,  mur- 
muring in  a  tone  of  bitter  pain  as  he  kissed  her  in  a 
lingering  farewell,  "  How  can  I  leave  you,  dear,  how 
cem  I  go  ? "  while  Berrie  threw  her  arms  around  hii 
neck  and  sobbed  bitterly  on  his  bosom. 

"  Do  not,  Berrie  1 "  he  murmured,  entreatingly. 
"  This  is  more  than  I  can  bear.     We  must  go  in." 

They  stood  in  silence  for  a  moment,  until  Berrio 
was  calmer,  then  rang  the  bell. 

Miss  Burton  pi  :)mptly  replied  to  the  summons,  ex- 
claiming: "Well,  truants!  I  have  been  fearfully 
frorried  about  you ;  fortunately,  ma  did  not  know  yon 


"/  LOVE  706'."  IfJ 


were  out.    The  storm  came  up  so  suddenlj  that  I 
pected  ycu  would  be  di-enclied." 

"  "Well,  you  see  it  is  better  than  you  hoped,"  retnmedl 
Mr.  Adair.  "  "We  found  a  friendly  shelter,  and  «•• 
caped  the  drenching  you  anticipated." 

"  Better  than  I  feared,  you  mean  1 "  she  laughed. 
"  But  come  in,  do !  Tou  have  draggled  your  dreai 
well,  at  aU  events,  Berrie." 

"  I  should  think  I  hadl  I  will  run  up  and  change 
it,  and  be  down  in  a  moment.  Go  in,  Mr.  Adair,  it  ia 
not  late  yet,"  and  Berrie  ran  upstairs,  thankful  to  es- 
cape the  scrutiny  of  her  sister's  loving  eyes. 

She  was  not  long  in  making  the  required  change, 
and  the  remainder  of  the  evening  passed  pleasantly, 
while  joy  and  regret  each  struggled  for  the  mastery  in 
two  hearts  whose  every  throb  was  in  unison. 

The  adieus  were  quietly  madf  ,  Belle  fluently  ex- 
pressing the  regret  that  Berrie  felt  in  every  fibre  of 
her  being,  and  Messrs.  Wright  and  Adair,  for  th«»  lafl 
time,  took  their  departure  together. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

▲  PABTING  GIFT. — FASSWEIX. 

**  Thii  Ib  the  pictured  likenesa  of  mj  low : 
How  true  to  life  I " 

Mb&  A.B. 

**  And  now  farewell,  farewell  I     I  d&re  not  leafthm 

These  sweet,  sad  moments  out ;  to  gaxe  on  thM 
la  bliss  indeed,  yet  it  but  serres  to  gtrengthea 

The  love  that  now  amountB  to  agony. 
This  is  our  last  farewell — our  last  fond  meetinf ; 

The  world  is  wide,  and  we  must  dwell  apart; 
My  spirit  gives  thee  now  its  last  fond  greeting, 
With  hp  to  Up,  while  pulse  to  puls«  is  beating, 

And  heart  to  heart.'* 

A.  B.  Wklbt. 

FTER  a  night  of  broken  slumbers,  Berri« 
awoke  to  the  consciousness  of  a  new  and  per- 
fect joy,  a  new  and  bitter  grief.  "  It  is  all 
irae  then,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  "and  not  a 
dream  of  my  imagination  as  I  have  half  fancied 
through  the  hours  of  darkness.  True  that  he  loves  me 
after  all,  true,  too  true  that  he  is  going  away  for  long, 
long  weary  years,"  and  htirdly  knowing  whether  she 
was  most  ^lad  or  sorry,  she  smiled  and  wept  by  tomii 


A  PABTINO   O TFT— FAREWELL.  IM 

But  though  she  felt  that  the  long  sepA'ation  would  h% 
rery  bitter,  yet  she  was  so  glad  to  know  th«it  a  oommoB 
love  united  them,  so  relieved  at  the  porfrxjt  annihilatioii 
of  all  her  doubts,  so  sweet  was  the  first  fjtste  of  "  hcoe'i 
fruitior,"  that  after  all,  she  was  -eallj  more  happy  tb«p 
Bad. 

In  truth  she  did  not  yet  realize  th^t  they  .vtre  part^ 
for  years ;  she  repeated  the  words  to  herself,  but  thej 
did  not  possess  the  meaning  that  they  would  do,  when 
the  first  flush  of  joy  in  his  love  had  passed,  and  the 
long  months  and  years  of  absence  caused  her  to  )ong 
with  such  intensity  for  a  sight  of  the  loved  one's  face, 
a  touch  of  his  tender  hand,  the  echo  of  his  low,  caresa- 
ing  voice  falling  sweetly  on  her  hungry  ears. 

The  predominant  thought  in  her  mind  that  day,  "vran 
not,  "  He  has  left  me  to  cross  the  vaaft  blue  ocean," 
but,  "  If  he  must  go  away,  I  am  so  glad  that  he  loves 
me,  so  glad  that  he  told  me  !  it  makes  the  parting  far 
more  endurable.  Blessings  on  the  fearful  storm  which 
brought  me  such  a  boon." 

She  thought  it  no  more  possible  to  see  him  iigain  than 
if  the  ocean  wastes  alreadv  divided  them  from  eaoti 
other  ;  and  therefore  was  greatly  surprised  when  Hattie, 
entering  the  room  where  she  was  sitting  late  in  the  fore- 
noon, said:  "  Berrie, Mr.  Adair  is  downstairs, and  wanti 
to  see  you  a  moment.  Don't  wait,  he  says,  as  he  is  in  a 
liUFry,"  and  with  one  glance  in  the  mirror  at  the  crim- 
son cheeks  it  revealed,  a  careful  smoothing  of  ^he  flow- 
ing curls,  an  adjusting  of  the  dainty  collar  at  hei  throat, 
ahe  passed  down  the  stairs,  trembling  with  the  excess  of 
her  Burprise  and  pleasure  at  this  unexpected  meeting. 


A  PARTINQ    GIFT-   r.iREWELL, 

The  mar  needed  no  better  assurance  of  her  J9f  ii 
•eeing  him  again,  than  the  beaming  face  before  hinii 
M  he  sprang  forward  and  took  her  hand,  she  exclaiim> 
ing :  "  Why,  Mr.  Adair,  this  is  an  unexpected  pleMM 
nre  1     I  supposed  you  were  far  away,  ere  this." 

"  No  1  I  have  delayed  a  little  to  see  my  new  found 
treasure  once  more — to  make  sure  that  it  is  really 
mine — and  to  bring  you  a  little  reminder  of  your  al>' 
sent  friend,"  and  he  placed  in  her  hand  a  tiny  casket 
and  drew  her  to  a  seat  beside  him  on  the  sofa. 

As  she  opened  it,  he  glanced  at  his  watch  and  said : 
"  I  have  j  ist  fifteen  minutes  to  give  you,  Berrie ;  we 
must  compress  as  much  as  possible  in  that  limited  time, 
my  love ! "  smiling  as  he  drew  his  arm  around  her 
waist,  and  said,  "  TVell,  how  do  you  like  my  gift  ? " 

"  Almost  as  well  as  the  giver  1 "  she  replied,  archly, 
looking  up  in  his  face.  "  I  could  not  say  more, 
Eugene  I " 

The  open  casket  revealed  a  glitter  of  diamonds,  and 
as  the  girl  removed  the  jewels  from  their  case,  it 
proved  to  be  a  handsome  cluster  ring,  and  he  re- 
marked :  "  You  see,  Berrie,  it  is  not  the  conventional 
pledge  of  troth,  a  solitaire,  nor  do  T  give  it  to  you  aa 
inch,  or  wish  you  to  consider  it  a  type  of  bondage. 
You  know  I  leave  you  free,  ray  little  girl,  and  I  wish 
you  to  think  of  this  as  a  parting  gift  merely,  a  re- 
minder of  one  absent,  but  I  trust  ever  iear." 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,  and  I  shaV  prize  't  more  than 
you  can  think!"  she  murmured.  "  ^ut,  Eugene *'—« 
timidly — ^^  I  am  afraid  you  do  not  trust  me  as  yo» 


A  FASTINO  GIFT -FARE  WffLL,  201 

H«  kissed  her  tenderly  before  replying,  ther  laid : 
**I  trust  your  present  affection,  Berrie;  but  do  nc4 
blame  me  if  I  have  not  sufficient  confidence  in  your 
constancy  through  the  months  and  years  of  absence 
You  will  not,  I  think,  when  you  know  how  I  sufFered 
once,  as  I  said  last  night,  from  mistaken  affection.  I 
trust  your  truth  and  purity  of  purpose,  my  love,  and  if 
I  have  doubts  of  anything,  it  is  your  knowledge  of 
your  own  heart  1 " 

"  If  you  knew  what  tortures  I  have  endured  for  the 
past  few  weeks,  you  would  think  differently,  perhapi.** 

"  On  my  account  ? " 

"  On  your  account,  yes  1 " 

"  Well  1  be  true  to  me,  Berrie,  and  I  shall  hop©  for 
a  happy  coming  home  by-and-by.  The  weary  prob»> 
tion  will  make  the  glad  re-union  all  the  more  perfect 
and  sweet.     So  you  like  the  ring,  do  you,  dear  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  do  1  how  could  I  help  it,  particularly 
as  coming  from  yon ! " 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  if  you  do  I  but  here  is  something 
which  perhaps  will  make  it  still  dearer  to  yon  1 "  and 
he  touched  a  tiny  spring  which  threw  backward  the 
cluster  of  jewels,  and  revealed  a  small,  but  perfect 
likeness  of  the  handsome  giver. 

"  Oh,  Eugene  1 "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  am  so  glad  ol 
that  I  It  does  render  it  indeed  doubly  dear ;  it  is  so  like 
you  I  '*  and  she  looked  from  the  miniature  to  the  speak- 
sag  face  of  the  origmal  which  was  bert  so  near  her 
ewn. 

**  TeSj  the  likeness  is  very  good,  I  believe,  and  I 
tibonght  it  would  please  my  little  girl  to  hare  it,** 

r 


fOS  A  PABTmO  OrPl    FAREWELL, 

"  You  cannot  gnees  how  ranch  "  she  retoroed  ear 
noBtly,  receiving  a  tender  caress  for  reply,  as  h©  slipped 
the  ring  on  the  fore-finger  of  the  little  hand  he  held. 

"  But,  Eugene,"  she  continued  hesitatingly,  ''I  don't 
think  I  will  wear  it,  at  least  just  at  present;  it  would 
bo  provocative  of  too  many  questions." 

"  Act  your  own  pleasure  about  that,"  he  returned, 
inuling;  "  it  is  yours  to  do  as  you  like  with ;  only  don't 
give  it  away  to  Charlie,  or  any  other  of  your  ardent 
admirers,"  mischievously. 

"There  is  no  danger  of  that,  1  guess.  Do  yoB 
know  he  is  fearfully  jealous  of  you  ? " 

"  Is  he  1    Well,  do  not  let  him  cut  me  out  1  ** 

She  looked  at  him  reproachfully,  but  made  no  reply. 
After  a  few  moments,  he  said:  "Berrie,  I  wish  you 
would  give  me  something  for  a  keepsake — not  to 
remember  you  by,  for  I  can  never  forget  you,  my 
love  1 " 

"  I  wish  I  could,  Eugene,  but  I  don't  know  that  I 
have  anything  you  would  like." 

"  Will  you  give  me  one  of  these  ?  "  and  he  lifted  a 
curl  from  the  beautiful  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Oh  yes,  with  pleasure,  if  you  wish." 

"Charlie  did  wot  get  his  the  other  night  I  **  laugh- 

"Not  exactly,  nol" 

Bhe  brought  him  a  pair  of  scissors,  saying  playfully ; 
"  Don't  cut  it  oflF  where  it  will  show,  Mr.  Adair,  or  I 
•hall  get  unmercifully  teased  " 

"  Who  were  you  addressing,  MisB  Burton  9  "  as  he 
eat  the  curl,  and  held  it  in  his  Land,  looking  fondly 


4   rARTINQ    a:FT-  FAMEWBLi*.  %0Z 

at  it,  bnt  not  kissing  it  as  a  younger  man  mi^ht  hart 
done. 

She  laughed.  "  It  is  difficult  to  Bay  Eugene,  when  1 
have  been  so  long  accustomed  to  use  a  different  name." 

"  Well,  I  must  forgive  you,  I  auppoee !  you  have  done 
very  well  indeed." 

They  sat  in  silence  for  some  time,  heart  only  speak 
ing  to  heai't,  until  Berrie  exclaimed:    "By  the  way, 
Eugene,  I  believe  I  have  one  of  my  last  photographj 
left,  if  you  would  like  to  have  it." 

"  Judge  by  your  pleasure  in  receiving  mine,  whether 
I  would  or  not  1  "  he  replied,  smiling. 

"  Then  I  think  you  would,  very  much  1 "  archly 
'*  You  shall  have  this  one  in  the  album,  and  I  will  re^ 
place  it  with  another." 

"It  is  beautiful,  my  darling  I"  he  said,  "but  not 
half  80  lovely  as  my  precious  original.  This  would  be 
but  an  aggravation,  were  they  not  both  mine  I "  and 
as  any  lover  would  have  done,  he  sealed  his  tender 
flattery  with  many  tender  caresses,  and  placed  the 
picture  with  the  curl  carefully  in  the  breast-pocket  of 
his  coat,  saying  playfully,  "  Next  to  my  heart,  you  see, 
Berrie  1 " 

"  I  see,  yes  I  I  suppose  ycu  will  carry  it  there  for 
a  time,  uutil  some  of  those  fair  Italians  supplant  the 
original  in  your  favor." 

"  It  will  be  for  long,  then,  you  may  bo  sure,  dear ! 
You  trust  me,  do  you  not  ? " 

"  As  entirely  as  you  do  me  I  "  mischievously. 

"  You  compel  me  to  trust  you,  whether  1  will  or  no  I" 
and  resting  bis  cheek  on  her  head,  he  held  her  for  a 


t04  A  PARTINO   GIFT-  J  ARE  WELL. 

few  momentB  in  silence,  trying  to  Bununon  the  conniKf 
to  leave  this  little  girl  who  was  so  dear  to  him,  to  say 
the  bitter  words  of  farewell  whicn  were  agoaj  to  both 
their  hearts. 

At  length  he  took  out  hia  watch,  and  holding  it 
before  her  eyes,  said  softly :  "  Berrie,  do  you  see  the 
time?" 

"  Yes  1 "  she  murmured. 

"  Only  five  minutes  more,  and  I  must  go  1 " 

"  Oh,  Eugene  1 "  she  cried,  passionately,  the  might 
of  her  love,  and  the  anguish  of  parting,  overcoming 
her  shyness  and  reticence :  "  How  can  I  let  you  go  1 
What  may  not  happen  in  five  whole  weary  yeans  f  " 

"My  love,  I  leave  you  in  God's  hands,  safe  1  truflting 
He  will  keep  us  for  each  other  and  unite  us  at  last, 
praying  that  the  probation  may  not  be  so  long  and 
tedious  as  we  anticipate,  certain  that  in  any  event  all 
will  bo  welL     Can  you  not  trust  as  I  do  9  " 

"  No  1     I  can  only  feel  that  you  are  going  away  1 " 

"  And  do  you  not  think  that  I  feel  it  as  bitterly  m 
you,  can,  Berrie  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know — it  seems  to  me  you  do  not ! " 

He  pressed  her  close  without  replying,  hurt  at  her 
doubt  of  him,  suffering  untold  pain  at  thought  of  leav- 
ing her. 

Hia  silence  reproached  her  more  than  any  words 
could  have  done,  and  she  whispered  penitently :  "  For- 
give me,  Eugene  1  I  know  that  vou  do  care,  that  you 
are  mrrj  to  part  with  me." 

"  How  sorry,  my  darling,  you  can  only  judge  by 
yoxir  own  tortured  heart    Language  has  no  word  so 


A  PABTIHO  QIFT-FASSWSLL,  SOI 

nd  M  farewell!  Why,  Berrie,  what  Ib  thial  wMM 
ftgain  I "  as  a  warm  drop  fell  on  his  hand.  "  D9  not| 
love  1  be  brave  and  hope  for  the  best  I  I  cannot  bear 
that  you  should  grieve  so,"  and  his  own  eyes  were 
moist  as  he  drew  her  still  closer,  and  waited  for  the 
passionate  sobs  that  shook  her  frame  to  cease;  only 
murmuring  now  and  then  ;  "  I  must  go,  Berrie  1 "  yet 
•till  lingering. 

"  It  is  getting  late,"  at  last  he  said,  "  and  I  mAuit 
leave  you,  Berrie  I  Let  me  have  one  last  smile  to 
remember,"  and  bravely  choking  down  her  sobs,  sho 
raised  her  head,  and  while  her  eyes  were  still  wet  with 
tears,  smiled  in  the  face  so  tenderly  bending  above 
her, 

"  That  is  my  brave  little  girl  1 "  and  with  his  armi 
still  ai  -)und  her,  he  drew  her  with  him  to  her  feet 

"  Aiid  now,  farewell  1 "  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers 
Ln  one  lingering  kiss,  strained  her  for  a  moment  close 
to  his  heart,  murmured :  "  Think  of  me  often,  love, 
and  may  God  bless  and  keep  you  1 "  released  her,  and 
without  one  backward  look,  left  the  room  and  the  house. 

As  the  jutside  door  closed  behind  him,  she  sprang 
to  the  window  for  one  more  glance,  and  as  he  turned 
the  corner  near  by,  he  looked  back,  raised  his  hat,  and 
kissing  his  hand  to  her,  was — gone  I  carrying  with  him 
as  a  last  remembrance,  the  picture  of  the  girl  he  loved 
leaning  eagerly  from  the  cpen  window  of  the  room 
in  which  he  had  passed  so  many  pleasant  hours,  her 
graceful  figure  clearly  defined  against  the  misty  curtains 
of  embroidered  lace  that  fell  behind  her. 

She  itood  for  a  time  gazing  at  the  spot  where  the 


S0«  A  PABTINO   GIFT-  FAREWELL. 

iMt  WW  him,  with  tears  iu  her  eyes,  and  smileB  on  hm 
lipe,  and  then  went  to  lier  own  apartment,  carrying  in 
her  hand  the  tiny  casket  he  had  given  her,  and  with 
the  gleaming  ring  still  on  her  finger.  But  when  ahfl 
came  downstairs  an  hour  or  two  later,  m  response  tc 
her  sister's  summons  to  dinner,  it  was  left  behind,  safe 
in  its  little  casket,  locked  away  from  curious  eyes,  with 
his  gifts  of  a  day  or  two  previo  .s,  the  fading  bouquet^ 
and  the  costly  spray  of  holly. 


■     0- 


CHAPTER  XV. 


BKEEIE  8    JOTJKNAL — HOPE    DEFSSKOk 


**  SHi  uianj  a  time  I  am  sad  at  heart, 

And  I  haven't  a  word  to  say, 
And  I  keep  from  the  lassies  and  lad«  •pait, 

In  thvi  meadow  a  making  hay. 
But  Willlb  vjtU  bring  me  the  first  wild  roM 

In  my  new  snn-bonnet  to  wear, 
And  Robin  will  wait  at  the  keeper's  gate, 

For  he  foJows  lae  everywhere. 
But  I  tell  tht-ia  tliey  need  not  come  wooTxi|[  to  me. 
For  my  heart,  iny  heart  ia  over  the  nea  1 " 

Song  by  "  GlabXMSU 


[IX  montlis  haa  passed,  and  in  the  gloaming  of  a 
lovely  day  earl)  in  May,  Berrie  sat  in  the  cheery 
west  window  ol  her  own  pleasant  apartment, 
ultemately  watching  thvj  swiftly  changing  hues  of  one 
of  America's  own  glorioas  sunsets,  and  glancing  over 
the  pages  of  a  tiny  volume  which  she  was  holding  in 
ber  h&ud. 

In  outward  appearance,  the  six  months  had  wrought 
very  little  change  in  the  lovely  girl, — perhaps  the  oval 
face  had  taken  on  the  least  shade  of  seriousness,  aD<j 
the  lips,  so  poutmg  and  sweet,  were  sometimes  slightlj 


SOS       BERRIB'a  JOVBNAI^UOPE  DEFBRBBD. 

oompreesed,  while  in  the  large  dark  eyes  Inrked  ft 
latent  tinge  of  sadness  ;  but  the  jasual  observer  would 
icarcely  notice  these  marks  of  a  restless  heart,  or 
dream  that  'neath  the  fair  exterior,  wearinesB  and 
Badness  and  pain  too  often  lay,  sapping  the  youthifu] 
freshness  and  vigor  of  her  spirits,  and  setting  on  hei 
fair,  smooth  brow,  an  added  seal  to  her  ripened  womaD- 
hood. 

Let  UB  look  over  her  shoulder,  as  she  reads  from  the 
little  volume  in  her  hand— which  is  evidently  a  diary — 
and  see  if  we  cannot  ascertain  eomething  of  her  life 
for  the  past  six  months  or  more. 

The  fret  record  is 

"  Oct.  IQth. — More  than  a  week  has  elapied  sinoe 
my  friend  bade  me  farewell;  and  wearying  of  the 
silence  that  rests  about  his  name,  wearying  of  the 
ceaseless  thoughts  of  him  that  come  and  go,  come  and 
go  in  my  heart,  taunting  me  with  '  bliss  remembered,' 
and  hopes  which  must  wait  j^ears  for  glad  fulfilment, 
I  have  decided  to  keep  a  diary — writing  a  little  new 
and  then,  when  silence  becomes  a  burden,  and  unfold- 
ing to  these  silent  pages  the  restless  longings  of  a 
weary,  unfiatisfied  heart. 

"  As  I  have  said,  more  than  a  week  has  passed  by 
tince  Mr.  Adair  bade  me  adieu,  and  I  am  already  long- 
ing for  him,  and  wondering  how  the  long  montns  and 
years  of  separation  are  to  be  endured. 

"  I  hoped  he  would  write  to  me  before  he  sailed  for 
a  foreign  land,  bat  to^lay  1  read  the  clearance  of  the 
■teamer  in  whioh  he  had  taken  passage,  and  to-night  I 


BERRrmS  JO  URN AL~  HOPE  DEFERRED.        30» 

(Sftn  only  think  of  hirn  as  gliding  over  that  *  coquettiah,' 
impulsive  sea,  which  he  so  dearly  loves.  That  thooghti 
of  me  are  mingled  with  his  farewell  to  America,  I 
eattnot  doubt,  particularly  when  I  touch  the  magic 
•pring  of  the  cluster  of  jewels  on  my  finger — for  I  in- 
dulge myself  by  wearing  it  now  and  then,  when  securely 
locked  in  ray  own  room — and  gaze  on  the  handsome, 
•miling  face  of  him  who  is  so  dear  to  me. 

*'  Mr.  Wright  left  for  Boston  two  days  ago  to  see 
his  friend  off,  and  when  he  returns  I  shall  have  the 
latest  tidings  of  *  Eugene.^  God  keep  him  safe  and 
trnel" 

"  October  18^A. — ^Mr.  Wright  returned  to-day,  and 
ai  usual,  has  spent  the  evening  vnth  us.  He  expecti 
to  leave  town  next  week,  permanently;  although  he 
says  he  shall  run  down  occasionally  during  the  winter. 
There  is  a  strong  attraction  for  him  here,  evidently ; 
and  I  would  not  be  surprised  were  he  one  day  to  bear 
a  nearer  relation  to  us  than  at  present. 

"  He  told  Belle,  in  ray  presence,  the  particulars  of 
his  friend's  departure ;  every  word  of  which  was  as 
manna  to  my  hungry  heart.  He  said  Mr.  Adair  was 
well,  but  he  never  saw  any  one  feel  so  badly  at  going 
away,  and  thought,  had  not  his  word  been  pledged,  he 
would,  at  the  last  moment,  have  given  up  going, 

"Late  in  the  evening,  Belle  left  the  room  for  a 
moment,  and  Mr.  W.  crossed  over  to  the  window  where 
!  was  sitting,  and  said  in  a  low  tone, '  Mr.  Adair 
wished  me  to  give  his  best  love  to  his  little  friend,  and 
a  laat,  bat  regretful  f arewelL* 


3110       BSBRIB'8  JOURNAI^  HOPE  DEFBkRSJX 

"JBelle's  opportune  entrarce  obviated  the  neoessi^ 
lot  »  reply  to  my  exceeding  relief.  I  wonder  did  hfl 
tall  Mr.  Wright  of  the  bond  between  us ;  I  do  not 
Uiink  he  did,  or  would." 

"  d^ov.  3d. — Mr.  Wright  did  not  leave  aa  earlj  as  he 
eipectod,  and  is  still  here,  although  I  believe  he  goes 
away  in  a  day  or  two  now.  He  said  to-night  that  ho 
had  seen  reported  the  ariival  at  Liverpool  of  tho 
«teamer  which  bore  away  my  friend.  Therefore  I 
trust  the  perilous  journey  has  been  safely  completed — 
or  that  portion  of  it — and  to-night  my  dear  one  tread* 
the  far-off  shores  of  fair  Albion. 

"  I  hope  he  will  write  me  from  there,  in  which  caae 
I  should  receive  it  in  two  weeks  at  farthest.  ECaste, 
old  Time,  and  bring  me  tidings  of  the  wanderer." 

"  ^ov.  17th. — Tidings,  but  meagre  and  unsatisfac- 
tory. Mr.  Wright  left  for  Boston  about  two  weeks 
ago,  and  to-day  Belle  received  a  note  from  him,  in- 
closing one  which  had  just  arrived  from  Mr.  Adair; 
thinking,  he  said,  we  would  all  be  glad  to  hear  from 
him.  Knowing,  he  might  have  added,  that  Berrie  at 
least  would.  But  however  much  he  may  know  or  sus- 
pect, he  keeps  his  own  counsel  faithfully.  He  is  very 
kind,  and  I  fully  appreciate  his  delicacy  and  gener- 
•iity. 

''  Belle  sent  the  note— Eugene's — up  to  me,  and  it 
Zies  before  me  now ;  traced  on  thin  blue  foreign 
^per,  in  a  firm,  plain,  manly  hand,  characteristic  of 
dM  noble  writer.     It  was  very  brief,  and  ran  thof : 


BERBnra  joubnal~eopb  defebbed.     2H 

*  LiVEEPOOL,  EnO.,  IfoV.  %f 

*  Mt  Deab  Weight  : 

*  Afl  perhaps  you  will  have  seen  by  the  papers,  ift 
arrived  here  safely,  on  the  30th  ult.,  after  a  pleaeant, 
but  somewhat  tedious  passage. 

*  I  have  no  time  for  particulars,  but  thought  yon 
would  like  to  hear  directly  from  me,  therefore  write 
just  these  few  words  to  let  you  know  I  am  safe  and 
well,  although  still  unreconciled  to  leaving  my  friends 
in  fair  America. 

'  I  shall  leave  for  Paris  in  a  few  days,  and  will  write 
you  more  fully  on  arriving  at  Venice. 

*■  Kind  remembrances  to  all  mutual  friends,  and  best 
wishes  for  yourself. 

*  Please  inform  my  sister  of  my  safe  arrival  an4 

oblige 

'  Your  friend, 

*■  EnoENB  Adjjx. 
Mb.  Gbobok  Weight, 
Boston.' 

"  That  was  all ;  and  though  of  course  I  am  relieved 
to  know  he  is  safe  and  well,  it  is  scarcely  more  than 
an  aggravation  to  a  heart  hungry  for  full  and  perfect 
tokens  of  continued  love  and  remembrance.  Not  that 
I  doubt  either ;  but  my  heart  craves  the  sweet  assur- 
ances of  both. 

"No  letter  for  me  as  yet,  nor  do  I  know  Iti  what 
direction  to  look  for  one.  I  judge,  from  what  he  said, 
that  he  will  not  send  them  direct  to  me  through  the 
posVoffice,  but  if  he  made  other  arrangements,  he  did 
iMt  inform  me  of  them.     Possibly  he  may  send  them 


S12       BEBBIE'B  JOURNAL—HOPE  DJJFERRED. 

through  Mr.  Wright.  I  am  sure  he  migh*^  be  truBtedL 
But  I  know  nothing  of  his  plans,  and  lAn  only  w»it 
Mid  Be©.     But  the  waiting  time  is  weary,  weary  I " 

^^  Jan.  \^ih. — It  is  just  three  months  to-day  sinoa 
]tfr.  Adair  stood  on  the  deck  of  an  outward  bound 
steamer,  and  watched  the  domes  and  spires  of  fair  old 
Boston  fade  slowly  from  his  sight.  Three  weary 
months  1  and  still  not  one  word  from  him  to  tell  me  I 
am  remembered,  or  ease  this  aching  longing  in  my 
heart,  for  tidings  of  my  dear  one.  I  thought  the  note 
k>  Mr.  Wright,  announcing  his  arrival  at  Liverpool, 
unsatisfactory,  but  I  would  gladly  welcome  now  any- 
thing as  meagre  as  that  even. 

"  He  did  not  say  he  should  write  to  me  before  arriv- 
ing at  Venice,  but  still  I  hoped  he  would ;  and  even 
had  he  not,  it  seems  to  me  I  should  have  heard  from 
him  ere  this. 

"  Mr.  Wright  was  down  and  spent  Christmas 
with  us,  and  the  holidays  passed  off  quite  pleasantly, 
although  I  seemed  to  miss  and  want  7ny  frieivd  more 
then  than  at  any  other  time.  If  ever  we  wish  for  the 
presence  of  our  dear  ones,  it  is  surely  in  festival  aea 
•ons,  and  to  know  that  miles  of  land  and  ocean  seoa- 
rate  us,  is  very,  very  bitter.  Could  I  have  heard  from 
him,  even,  ere  then,  it  would  have  been  less  hard. 
Mr.  Wright  informed  us  casually,  that  he  had  received 
no  further  tidings,  but  though  I  longed  to  ask  him  if 
2iir.  A-dair  had  made  arrangements  to  send  my  ietteni 
In  his  care,  I  could  not  summon  the  courage  to  do  so. 

^  I  received  a  letter  from  Maud  I/ester  a  few  days 


BEBRIEPS  JOUBNAL  -HOPE  DEFERRED.        JH 

•iLce,  urging  me  to  co?no  and  ppend  the  remaindei  of 
the  winter  with  her;  bnt,  altliongh  I  wonld  like  very 
much  to  Bee  her,  I  feel  that  my  heart  and  nerves  could 
not  endure  the  constant  strain  which  the  gay«ty  | 
should  be  forced  to  affect  would  impose.  Therefore  I 
•hall  write  her  that  I  cannot  come. 

"  I  have  not  yet  ventured  to  wear  my  precious  ring, 
iave  in  the  privacy  of  my  own  room ;  but  I  mean  to 
do  so  some  time,  when  I  can  gain  sufficient  courage  to 
face  the  astonishment  and  questions  it  would  be  cer- 
tain to  provoke.** 

"  April  \hth. — 1  find  it  is  three  months  since  my 
last  record ;  months  that  have  seemed  almost  endless 
to  me,  and  still  I  can  only  write  in  substance  what  I 
did  three  months  ago,  no  letter  yetl  Time  drags 
wearily  and  there  are  days  when  I  can  scarcely  endure 
existence ;  when  the  longing  in  my  heart  for  tid- 
ings of  my  loved  one,  for  a  sight  of  his  face,  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  seems  almost  more  than  I  can  bear ;  but 
time  goes  on,  and  my  longings  are  still  unsatisfied,  and 
the  burden  grows  stiL  heavier  to  bear.  I  cannot  ac- 
count for  his  silence,  and  am  tortured  with  all  manner 
of  suggestions  from  my  anxious  heart, — fears  for  his 
safety,  almost  doubts  of  his  constancy,  or  anxiety  lest 
he  should  have  chosen  an  untrustworthy  medium 
through  which  to  communicate  with  me.  In  fact,  I 
know  not  what  to  think  1  But  the  suspense  is  wearing 
upon  me,  and  I  often  find  it  impossible  to  assume  the 
gayety  of  manner  which  alone  wards  off  the  questions 
ftod  oomments  that  I  find  it  so  hard  to  endoreu 


gl4       BERRIES  JOURNAI^  HOPE  DEFERRED. 

"I  wish  eoraetimes  that  we  had  been  less  privmta^ 
and  announced  to  the  world  our  engagement — for  ai- 
though  he  protested  that  he  left  me  free,  he  bound  my 
heart  with  chains  that  nothing  can  break — that  I  might 
not  be  forced  to  constantly  wear  a  mask.  Yot, 
should  he  prove  untrue,  publicity  would  have  rendered 
the  mortification  all  the  more  deep  and  bitter.  But  I 
feel  I  wrong  him  by  the  slightest  doubt  of  his  con- 
stancy ;  and  I  do  trust  him,  spite  of  all ;  I  wiU  trust 
him,  let  what  may  come.  He  is  incapable  of  treachery 
in  amy  relation  of  life. 

"  But  I  find  there  are  various  rumors  rife  which 
annoy  and  provoke  me  more  than  I  can  say ;  and 
which  an  underetanding  of  the  bond  between  us  would 
have  prevented.  Some  protest  that  I  refused  him,  and 
in  desperation  he  left  for  a  foreign  land,  there  to  hide 
his  grief  and  disappointment.  Others  that  he  was 
trifling  with  me,  and  went  away  without  making  the 
declaration  of  love  that  I  expected  and  desired.  It  is 
so  very  provoking,  and  so  difiicult,  when  such  rnmon 
are  reported  to  me  by  officious  friends  (?);  to  hide  my 
vexation,  and  laugh  the  subject  off.  I  did  turn  sharply 
on  one  old  gossip  the  other  day,  and  tell  her  that  if 
people  would  attend  to  their  own  affairs  a  little  more, 
and  let  mine  alone,  they  would  do  better.  I  regretted 
it  afterwards,  but  I  was  so  annoyed  I  could  not  help 
it ;  and  I  think  she,  at  least,  will  not  trouble  me  with 
any  more  nonsense. 

"  It  has  been  a  very  gay  winter  for  quiet  old  Bri»- 
tol,  and  I  have  participated  in  the  gayety  when  I  coald 
ftat  do  otherwise,  although  growing  so  weary  of  it,  and 


BERRJE'8  JOURNAL- nOPE  DEFERRED.        21fi 

wiahing,  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  for  the  quiet  of  mjown 
room.  Charlie  Anderson  is,  as  usual,  very  attentive — 
too  much  80,  in  fact — and  Harry  Alcott  is  equally  de 
voted ;  bat  it  is  all  of  no  avail,  for  my  heart  ii  otw 
the  blue  ocean,  and 

** '  I  lutve  a  more  than  frif^nd 

AoroBS  the  mormtams  dim ; 
Ko  other  voice  to  me  is  sweet, 

Unless  it  nameth  him  ! 
We  broke  no  gold — a  pledgv 

Of  stronger  love  to  be, 
But  I  wear  his  last  look  in  mj  ■owl 

Which  said,  I  love  but  thee ! 
I WM  betrothed  that  day ; 

I  wore  a  troth  kias  on  my  lips 
I  oould  not  give  away.' 

**Mr.  Wright  was  down  a  month  ago,  but  brcnghl 
»o  tidings  of  his  friend." 

The  twilight  shades  slowly  deepened,  and  Berrie 
dropped  the  book  in  her  lap,  leaning  her  head  on  her 
hand,  with  a  far-o£F  look  in  the  eyes  fixed  on  the 
gathering  gloom  without. 

A  half-hour  elapsed  ;  then  there  was  the  sound  of 
an  arrival,  unheeded  by  the  sad  dreamer  at  the  win- 
dow, and  in  a  short  time  Ilattie  rapped  at  her  door, 
and  callec,     iJerrie,  can  I  come  in  ?  " 

**  Yes,  dear  I  "  was  the  mechanical  reply. 

"  Berrie,  Mr.  Wright  has  come,  and  Belle  wants  yon 
should  come  down  and  see  him." 

"Very  welli"  absently;  "tell  him  I  will  be  down 


til       SEBSnrS  JOUENAL-HOPE  DEFERBED. 

"  No,  Bcrrie,  I  don't  want  to  go  down  until  you  dm 
Gome  now,  won't  you  ? "  and  the  little  girl  leaned  h«f 
Arm  on  her  sister's^  ahoulder.  and  played  earesBlngly 
with  her  curls. 

"  Why  don't  you  have  the  gaa  lighted  t  Come,  Bei^ 
rie,  come  down  Btaire  1 "  as  her  sister  passed  her  am 
around  her  without  replying. 

"  Well,  Hattie,  I  suppose  I  must  How  long  has  Mr. 
Wright  been  here?"  as  she  arose,  and  putting  away 
her  book,  prepared  to  go  down  stairs. 

"  Not  very  long ;  he  asked  for  you,  and  said  ha 
would  like  to  see  you.  " 

"  Did  he  1 "  and  a  gleam  of  hope  that  he  had  at 
length  heard  from  the  wanderer  crept  in  her  heart  ai 
she  passed  down  the  stairs,  with  Hattie  clinging  to  her 
hand,  and  chatting  gaily  all  the  way. 

"  Berrie,  wouldn't  you  like  to  see  Mr.  Adair ! "  just 
as  they  reached  the  hall  below.  "  /  would,  ever  so 
much  1 "  and  Berrie  had  only  time  to  answer  briefly 
"  Yes,"  ere  they  entered  the  parlor. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Berrie  ? " — for  he,  too,  had  dropped 
the  "  Miss"  at  last — "  didn't  I  take  yen  by  surprise, 
this  time?" 

"  You  did,  indeed,  Mr.  Wright  I  but  we  are  rery 
glad  to  see  you,  nevertheless ;  aren't  we,  Belle  t "  mi*- 
ehievously. 

Belle  blushed,  and  Mr.  Wright  hastily  went  oai 
*  Thank  you,  Berrie,  I  am  very  glad  to  come,  I  aaeura 
you.  I  have  been  thinking  for  a  week  or  ao  I  would 
run  down,  and  yesterday  I  received  a  long  letter  from 
Mr.  iidair,  and  I  thought  you  would  all  be  pleased  to 


MESBIB'8  JOUnNAL—HOPE  DBFBSBMD.       317 

hear  from  Awn.,  if  you  weren't  to  see  m«  /  sc  I  conclud* 
ed  to  oome  and  take  you  by  surprise." 

It  was  Berrie's  turn  to  color  now,  which  she  did 
f  oefiy,  as  she  answered  playfully ;  "  I  suppose  you 
thought  a  poor  excuse  better  than  none,  eh  t " 

**  Exactly  1  though  I  am  sure  you  cannot  think  that 
a  poor  one." 

**  Well,  what  did  Mr.  Adair  say  ? "  inquired  Belle. 

"  I  will  give  you  the  letter  by  and  by,  and  you  can 
gee  for  yourself." 

"You  think  you  deserve  the  first  welcome,  don't 
you  ?  "  asked  Berrie. 

"  Decidedly,  yes ! " 

Berrie  was  in  a  fever  of  impatience  to  see  the  longed- 
for  letter — but  would  not  for  the  world  have  asked  for 
it— and  felt  at  the  same  time  hurt  and  sore  to  think  in 
all  this  long  time  he  had  not  written  to  her.  And  as 
the  evening  waned,  and  nothing  more  was  said  of  the 
absent  one,  her  heart  grew  faint  with  the  sickness  of 
hope  deferred,  while  torturing  doubts  of  his  love  for 
her  dimmed  the  trust  in  him  she  had  hitherto  felL 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  a  ring  at  the  door 
bell  was  followed  by   the  announcement  that  Jennia 
Wardell  wished  to  see  Belle  for  a  moment,  but  would 
not  come  in,  and  Miss  Burton  left  the  room  in  response 
to  the  summons. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  her,  Mr.  Wright  took  a 
parcel  from  his  pocket,  and  passing  it  to  Berrie,  said : 
"  Here,  Berrie,  is  a  packet  Mr.  Adair  sent  me  for  you. 
S»>  you  see  I  had  a  double  errand  in  coming  to  Brifltol 
to^y.** 
it 


SI 8        BEBRIEPS  JOURNAL  -ECPE  DEFERRED. 

The  girl  was  paiufnlly  confused,  but  contrived  to 
murmur;  "Thanks,  Mr.  Wrfght,  you  are  very  kiad^ 
indeed!" 

"  Oh,  do  not  speak  of  it,  Berne  1  I  am  glad  te 
oblige  Eugene,  or  yourself  either.  I  was  very  mnch 
pleased  at  hearing  from  him  again,"  and  as  Belle  re. 
entered  the  room  Berrie  excused  herself  and  withdrew, 
with  the  precious  packet,  so  long  and  bo  ardentlj 
dMired,  clasped  tightly  in  her  hand 


CHAPTER  XVL 

"tHB   BESIEE   COMETH." 

**  Heaven  first  taught  letters  for  some  wretoh'i  «£1, 

Some  banished  lover,  or  some  captured  maid ; 

They  live,  they  speak,  they  breathe  what  love  iii£plrfli^ 

Warm  from  the  soul,  and  faithful  to  its  fires. 

Speed  the  soft  intercourse  from  soul  to  soul, 

And  waft  a  sigh  from  Indus  to  the  pole/* 

Pope. 

LONE  in  her  room,  with  closed  doors,  and  lit« 
tie  rocker  drawn  under  the  brilliant  gas  jet, 
Miss  Berrie  seated  herself  to  the  perusal  of 
the  precious  letter  in  her  hand. 

Her  heart  beat  high  with  anticipatory  pleasure,  for 
what  is  more  delightful  than  a  long  and  tender  letter 
from  one  we  love,  when  miles  of  distance  roll  between, 
and  long  expectation  enlianccs  the  value  of  the  mis- 
sive at  last  so  joyfully  received.  But  alas  1  how  sel- 
dom are  the  extravagant  anticipations  realized ;  how 
often  is  the  loving  heart  wounded  and  disappointed  by 
the  contents  of  the  epistle  so  anxiously  waited  for,  and 
•o  eagerly,  gladly  received  ? 

As  ehe  broke  the  seals  of  the  foreign  looking  paccet, 


220  '*THE  DESIRE   JOMETH.^ 

ft  thu»  square  of  card-board,  wrapped  in  tissue  p»^er, 
fell  from  the  numerous  folds  of  thin,  blue  letter,  but 
•o  eager  was  she  for  the  tender  words  she  felt  certam 
of  finding,  that  it  dropped  unheeded  in  her  lap.  She 
unfolded  the  closely  written  sheets,  and  with  a  little 
fiigh  of  satifif  action,  read : 

"  Ok  Shipboaju),  Oet.  09mI 
"  My  Deab  Iittle  Giel  ! 

"  On  the  '  rolling  deep,'  with  th« 
blue  waves  of  mid-ocean  before  me,  behind  me,  to  mj 
left,  to  my  right,  and  God's  boundless  blue  heayeni 
bending  serenely  above,  I  come  to  write  my  first  letter 
to  the  little  friend,  whom,  with  so  many  regrets,  I  left 
behind  me. 

"  We  are  six  days  out,  and  though  we  have  a  very 
pleasant  party  on  board,  the  monotony  has  already  be- 
come almost  unendurable  to  me,  and  I  am  longing  to 
place  my  foot  once  more  on  terra -firma,  to  see  rise  be- 
fore my  gaze  the  rugged,  barren  cliffs  of  Emerald  Isle, 
and  know  that  the  first  part  of  my  long  journey  is  at 
length  nearly  accomplished. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  Berrie,  how  much  more  endur- 
able would  be  these  quiet  days  on  the  heaving  sea,  if  I 
might  have  brought  with  me  the  little  friend  whom  the 
past  months  of  frequent  intercourse  have  so  greatly  en- 
deared to  me.  In  lie'i  of  that,  however,  I  will  fulfill 
the  promise  made  to  her  ere  my  departure,  and  employ 
a  few  of  these  quiet  hours  in  rehearsing  to  her  some 
of  the  scenes  of  the  past,  and  confiding  to  her  some  of 
the  hepes  and  prospects  of  the  future.  Of  one  hope^ 
whose  fruition  will  be  the  brightest  and  sweetest  of  all, 


**  TES  DESIRE  OOXBTH*  MI 

I  do  not  need  to  speak,  as  I  know  it  is  shared  by  ber, 

and  her  own  vivid  imagination  can  paint  its  fnlfilment 
more  perfectly  and  sweetly  than  any  words  of  mine 
eonld  do. 

«  My  &ther  died  when  I  was  scarcely  eighteen  yean 
of  age,  leaving  on  my  hands  a  burden  of  a  debt  which 
it  required  years  of  arduous  labor  on  my  part  to  re- 
move; but  with  a  counsellor  and  sympathizer  in  my 
dear  mother,  which  rendered  any  toil  a  pleasure,  and 
every  burden  easy  and  light  to  be  borne. 

"  As  a  boy,  drawing  was  a  passion  with  me,  and  1 
indulged  many  a  dream  of  future  pleasure  and  fame 
with  the  use  of  my  pencil,  which,  when  at  length  con- 
fided to  my  father,  were  blighted  by  unsympathizing 
ridicule,  and  a  decided  refusal  to  *  allow  me  to  waste 
my  time  on  any  such  nonsense ; "  and  immediately  on 
my  completing  the  regular  course  at  the  Latin  school  in 
my  native  city,  I  was  placed  behind  a  counter,  and  aL 
my  fairy  aspirations  annihilated  at  one  blow.  Of  the 
disappointment  it  was  to  me,  I  will  not  speak  at  length. 
It  was  my  first,  and  one  very  hard  to  endure  by  a  high- 
•trung,  impetuous  boy,  whose  tastes  were  all  artistic, 
and  directly  antagonistic  to  the  petty  details  of  trade, 
in  which,  against  my  will,  1  found  myself  launched. 

"  However,  I  swallowed  the  bitter  potion  with  what 
grace  1  could,  and  my  fathei-'s  sudden  death  shortly 
after,  leaving  on  my  haads  a  mother  and  younger  sis- 
ter, to  say  nothing  of  carelessly  accumulated  debta, 
ga^e  me  a  new  incitement  to  labor,  and  devoting  all 
my  energies  to  the  work  I  had  undertaken,  lUstastefo. 
M  it  was  to  me,  I  snoceeded  beyond  my  utmost  ezpea 


f23  ''THE  DESIRE  COMETS.'* 

tationg,  and,  being  rapidly  advanced,  when  I  had 
reached  my  twenty-first  birthday,  I  had  the  Batifcfaction 
of  knowing  that  by  my  own  exertions — and  the  bleeeing 
of  God — I  was  free  from  debt,  my  mother  and  sister 
comfortable  in  the  home  I  had  saved  for  them,  and  that 
at  any  day  I  willed,  I  could  become  a  partner  in  the 
firm  which  had  so  fully  appreciated  my  services,  and 
BO  generously  rewarded  them.  Of  course  so  advan 
tageous  an  ofFer  I  did  not  hesitate  long  about  accepting, 
and  still  fortune  prospered  me. 

"  About  a  year  later  1  met  a  young  lady,  who  to  my 
dazzled  eyes  seemed  the  perfection  of  beauty  and  love 
liness,  and  after  a  brief  but  impassioned  courtship,  1 
had  the  joy  of  leading  her  to  the  altar,  and  hearing  the 
man  of  God  pronounce  us  man  and  wife.  She  wai 
very  beautiful,  as  I  have  said ;  and,  of  course,  as  all 
young  lovers  do,  I  thought  her  as  perfect  in  character 
as  she  was  lovely  in  form  and  feature.  She  was,  in 
reality,  very  sweet-tempered,  lively,  and  spirited,  and 
with  a  manner  exceedingly  attractive  and  winning. 
But  firmness  and  will  were  wanting  to  perfect  her 
nature  ;  she  was  weak  and  easily  influenced,  shallow  in 
affection,  and  exceedingly  susceptible  to  flattery. 

"  She  was  ever  very  free  in  expressing  her  attach- 
n\ent  to  me,  and  God  knows  I  never  doubted  her 
parity,  or  the  depth  aud  strength  of  her  affection.  Nor 
do  I  reaUy  believe  now  but  she  thought  that  she  loved 
me ;  but,  as  I  have  said,  she  was  shallow  and  very 
jGong,  and  in  reality  did  not  know  her  oivn  heart. 

'*  The  flrm  of  which  I  was  a  member  desired  a  re- 
pr*!««nt»tive  abroad,  and  it  being  decided  that  »t  wai 


"  TBE  DESIRE  OOMETB*  233 

best  I  Bhould  be  the  one  to  go,  we  were  married,  and 
for  our  bridal  trip  we  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  took  up 
our  abode  in  the  delightful  but  dissolute  city  of  Paris, 

"  For  a  year,  all  went  well.  We  went  into  Bocietj 
very  little,  and  my  home  was  as  attractive  and  pleasant 
as  any  one  could  desire.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I 
met  an  old  school-fellow  and  friend,  and  the  pleasur* 
he  expressed  at  the  meeting  was  fully  reciprocated  by 
me.  He  also  was  resident  at  Paris,  and  I  took  him 
home  with  me  and  introduced  him  to  my  wife.  He 
was  a  bachelor,  and  finding  my  home,  in  which  he  waa 
ever  a  welcome  visitor,  so  attractive,  he  did  not  scruple 
to  frequent  it  as  often  as  he  desired. 

"  At  the  end  of  six  months  more,  a  decided  change 
was  observable  in  my  wife.  She  was  nervous,  irritable, 
and  exceedingly  cool  to  me,  becoming  more  and  more 
fond  of  society,  and  seemingly  indifferent  as  to  whether 
or  not  I  accompanied  her,  when  attending  the  social 
gatherings  to  which  we  were  invited. 

"  At  last  I  resolved  that  such  a  state  of  things  should 
exist  no  longer ;  and  on  remonstrating  with  her,  she 
frankly  declared  that  she  had  been  mistaken  in  her 
affection  for  me,  that  she  did  not  love  me  as  she  had 
done  at  the  first ;  and  that,  in  fact,  so  averse  had  she  be- 
come to  my  society,  she  could  scarcely  endure  my  pres- 
ence, much  less  my  caresses,  whichj  to  her  relief,  had 
some  time  since  been  withdrawn. 

"  Imagine,  Berrie,  what  I  endured  at  hearing  sncb 
words  from  the  lips  of  the  woman  I  had  promised  to 
love  and  cherish  till  death  should  part  us  I  No  I  you 
eannot,  even  with  your  tender  heart,  fancy  what  it  wai 


gt4  **THE  DSBIRB  C0MW1E.* 

to  me.  All  my  happiness  crnBhed  at  one  blow,  all  m$ 
faith  atterly  shattered,  all  my  hopes  thoronghly  onnilii 
lated,  bound  for  life  to  a  woman  who  hated  me,  Chun 
f  OB  think  of  anything  more  horrible — and  we  both  m 
young,  with  every  prospect  of  a  long,  long,  weary  exif* 
♦euce  before  ns ! 

^*  For  a  time  I  could  not  speak  to  her,  go  utterly 
ciushed  was  I,  with  misery  and  consternation.  At  last, 
iu  tlie  midst  of  the  anguish,  crept  the  suggestion  that 
if  she  had  thus  changed  to  me,  another  might  have  won 
the  love  I  had  deemed  was  only  mine  ;  and  I  tamed  to 
her  suddenly  with  the  question,  '  Clara,  do  you  hate 
me  because  you  love  another  ? ' 

"  The  guilty  blood  rushed  to  brow  and  check  of  the 
beautiful,  but  treacherous  face;  she  covered  it  with 
her  hands,  and  turned  away  without  reply.  Almoet 
frenzied  with  agony  and  jealous  rage,  1  tore  her  handi 
from  her  face  and  compelled  her  to  look  at  me,  repeat- 
ing with  white  lips  and  a  stem  voice,  the  question  1 
had  previously  asked. 

"  '  Dor't,  Eugene  I  *  she  pleaded.  *  I  dare  not  tell 
you.' 

"  *  You  need  not  1 '  I  exclaimed  bitterly  ;'  I  am  al- 
ready answered  I '  and  throwing  her  hand*  from  me,  I 
left  the  room. 

"  What  I  endured  that  night,  I  scarcely  remembei 
myself,  so  crazed  was  I  with  grief  and  anger.  Ie  tht 
morning  she  did  not  appe».r  at  breakfast,  and  wben  I 
reached  home  at  night,  and  inquirei'  for  her,  I  was  in- 
formed she  bad  left  home  the  previous  evening,  and 
ked  not  ••  yet  returned.    A  terrible  sospicion  orostied 


"  THE  DESIRE  COMETK'' 

my  mind,  and  1  repaired  immediately  to  her  room, 
there  to  find  what  I  dreaded  confirmed — tliat  she  had 
flown  from  my  home,  and  that  the  man  I  had  trusted 
had  been  the  one  to  lure  her  away. 

"  Do  you  wonder  now,  Berrie,that  I  have  confidence 
neither  in  man's  friendship  nor  woman's  love  1  Rather, 
thfct  I  have  not  had  for  long,  long  weary  years,  until 
my  little  girl  in  far-off  Bristol  eased  my  heart  of  the 
old  desolating  pain,  and  taught  me  new  faith  in  the 
purity  and  truth  of  woman.  For  Berrie,  love,  I  do 
trust  and  believe  in  you,  and  am  looking  with  eager, 
hungry  eyes,  to  the  dim  vista  of  the  future,  when  in 
your  tested  and  triumphant  love,  I  find  at  last  my 
rest. 

"  But  to  continue  1  That  very  night  there  was  a  ter- 
rible railway  accident,  and  among  the  list  of  the  killed 
I  read  the  name  of  my  treacherous  friend, '  and  lady.* 
Hastening  at  once  to  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  I  waa 
just  in  time  to  look  on  the  coldly  beautiful  face  of  my 
false  wife,  and  that  of  her  guilty  paramour,  ere  they 
were  lowered  into  their  hastily  prepared  graves  in  the 
quiet  ccvuntry  charchyard. 

"  Thus  early  had  God  avenged  my  wrongs ;  and  even 
in  the  midst  of  my  misery,  I  remembered  to  thank  Him 
that  He  had  never  granted  my  desire  for  a  child,  to  in- 
herit the  misery  and  disgrace  my  weak  and  unprincipled 
wife  would  have  transmitted  to  it. 

"  I  settled  up  my  business  in  Paris  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble, and  returned  to  America,  only  to  find  our  firm 
fearfully  involved ;  and  its  total  failure  shortly  after, 
threw  me  again,  almost  penniless,  upon  the  world.  But 
10* 


f9e  •*  THE  DRSJRB  COMBTIV 

my  siiter  had  wedded  before  my  own  icBrri^ge,  and 
was  therefore  provided  for,  ai.d  my  mother  was  too 
dear  to  me  to  ever  become  a  burden.  How  tenderly 
•he  welcomed  back  the  wanderer,  and  etsed  by  her  af- 
fection and  sympathy  the  sharpness  of  the  cmel  pain 
one  of  her  sex  had  inflicted  upon  me  I 

*  But  '  misfortunes  never  come  singly,'  as  1  had 
already  proved  ;  and  scarcely  six  months  after  my  re- 
turn to  America,  I  laid  the  form  «f  my  best  friend  in 
the  silent  grave,  and  almost  despairing,  turned  from 
the  quiet  shades  of  Mount  Aubura,  where  we  had  laid 
her  to  rest.  But  my  mother's  God  spoke  to  me  through 
my  deep  affliction,  and  taught  me  that  it  was  the  chas 
tening  but  loving  hand  of  a  Father  that  had  desolated 
my  life,  taught  me  faith  and  patience,  and  hc^e  in  the 
life  to  come,  if  not  in  this  present  existence,  bo  full  of 
trial  and  turmoil. 

"  I  entered  into  business  again,  and  was  moderately 
prospered.  The  offer,  last  spring,  of  a  government  ap- 
pointment abroad,  which  would  be  lucrative,  and  leave 
me  much  leisure  to  ply  my  favorite  vocation — painting 
-  -among  the  master-pieces  of  the  old  world,  was  too 
tempting  to  be  resisted,  and  had  I  not  met  my  little 
Holly-berry  in  dear  old  Bristol,  I  should  have  left  the 
American  shores  without  a  regret.  In  the  three  or  five 
years  to  come,  I  hope  to  accomplish  much ;  and  when  1 
fotum  to  my  native  land,  if  I  find  awaiting  my  coming 
<^ne  who  has  been  true  to  me  through  the  long  proba- 
doo^  I  shall  once  more  have  a  home  and  feel  that  life 
tutf  nothing  more  to  offer  me. 

e  told  you  briefly  some  of  the  eyentf  of 


«♦  TEE  DESIRE    ^OMETK*  MT 

the  past,  and  the  prospects  of  the  fiiture,  and  troBtiiig 
that  the  triab  I  have  endured  will  render  me  no  leu 
dear  to  the  one  I  have  dared  to  love — impossible  m  I 
had  thought  it  I  could  ever  do  so  again — I  will  leayfi 
the  completion  of  this  somewhat  lengthy  epistle  until 
later  in  the  voyage. 

"  Off  Queenstown,  Not.  29rt. 

"  Afl  you  will  see,  we  have  nearly  reached  our  jour- 
nty's  end,  and  I  will  spend  a  little  time  while  running 
up  to  Liverpool,  to  tell  my  little  friend  the  principal 
events  of  the  passage,  which  perhaps  may  interest 
her. 

"  When  a  few  days  out,  it  was  reported  in  the  cabin 
that  there  had  been  a  death  in  the  steerage  the  previ- 
ous night,  and  the  funeral  took  place  the  same  after- 
noon about  five  o'clock  ;  and  I  can  assure  yci,  Berrie, 
a  funeral  at  sea  is  a  solemn  occasion, — surrounded  by 
water,  with  no  escape,  a  death  at  sea  has  more  than 
double  the  solemnity  of  one  on  land,  and  though  but  a 
child,  there  were  none,  I  think,  but  felt  impressed.  It 
appears  that  a  steerage  passenger  with  her  husband  and 
child  shipped  at  Boston — her  cliild  at  the  time  being 
very  sick,  and  concealing  the  fact  until  the  following 
day,  lest  they  should  be  sent  ashore,  the  physicians 
on  board  found  it  out  too  late  to  be  of  service  to  the 
little  one,  and  it  died  on  the  Friday  evening  subsequent 
to  our  departure  from  Boston,  and,  at  the  mother's  re- 
quest, was  kept  until  the  following  day.  At  five  o'clock 
we  were  all  on  deck,  when  the  second  oflicer  came  f or- 
tfard,  followed  by  four  seamen,  carrying  the  little  cof- 
fin on  boards.  cov«red  by  a  pretty  aew  British  eiuigc 


"Tffl?  DESIRE  COMETH.* 

for  ft  pall,  an  1  accompanied  by  the  whole  c  i  the  %t&tg* 
age  pasBcngers.  They  were  met  by  the  O&ptain  and 
lome  officers  on  the  quarter  deck,  and  after  raising  it 
to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  the  captain  read  the  burtsl 
lervice,  and  at  the  words  '  We  commit  our  brother  to 
the  deep,'  the  little  coffin  was  slid  to  its  last  resting^ 
place,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  The  child  was  but 
fourteen  months  old,  was  well  cared  for,  and  very  de- 
cently buried,  and  at  the  mother's  request  placed  in  a 
3offin,  instead  of  canvas,  as  is  usual.  Thus  the  Death 
Angel  spread  his  wings  over  our  gallant  barque,  and 
stooping,  gathered  in  his  dusky  arms  this  innocent,  un- 
conscious babe,  bearing  it  far  away  from  the  evil  and 
pain  of  this  troublous  world. 

"  The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  but  seemed  very 
little  like  it  to  me,  and  I  much  longed  to  be  in  Ameri- 
ca, and  have  the  privilege  of  Christian  worship. 
Thought  much  of  you  all,  and  how  and  where  vou 
were,  until  I  was  almost  homesick  for  Bristol  and  Ber- 
rie.  We  did  not  have  service  on  board,  much  to  my, 
and  others'  disappointment.  The  captain  entertaining 
somewhat  peculiar  religious  views,  from  conscientioui 
reasons  I  presume,  did  not  care  to  read  it.  But  in  the 
afternoon,  several  of  us  who  were  drawn  together,  I 
suppose,  by  that  sympathy  which  a  ^rays  exists  between 
one  Christian  and  another,  were  sitting  in  the  uilooDi 
and  in  the  course  of  conversation,  deprecating  our  not 
having  service,  ajd  saying  how  much  unlike  Sunday  it 
was,  I  suggestei  that  if  some  one  would  play  for  us  all 
to  sing  it  would  bo  pleasant,  and  the  suggestion  being 
Mted  npoix,  we  succeeded  in  singing  several  beaatiful 


"  THE  DESIRE  OOMETK* 

and  well  known  hymns.  One  by  one  many  of  the  pM> 
Bengere  joined  us,  until  we  liad  a  goodly  congregation; 
and  till  those  who  had  walked  by  with  as  much  of  ■ 
sooflSng  sneer  on  their  faces  as  was  consistent  with  gen- 
tlemanly deportment,  had  brought  their  faces  into  nat- 
ural shape,  and  some  of  them  even  faintly  joined  in  the 
familiar  tunes,  we  continued  it;  then  separated,  and 
ipent  the  remainder  of  the  day  in  various  ways,  feeling 
more  content  that  we  had  made  some  efEort  to  keep 
holy  the  Sabbath  day. 

"  There  was  quite  an  interesting  little  incident  oc- 
curred a  day  or  two  subsequent,  which  I  will  tell  you 
of,  briefly.  One  of  our  ladies  went  into  the  steerage 
and  talked  with  an  old  woman  nearly  eighty,  who  waa 
'  going  home  to  die.'  The  poor  soul  had  started  for 
Ireland  without  a  penny  in  her  pocket — the  company 
giving  her  a  free  passage — and  she  was  trusting  to  her 
good  fortune  to  get  the  remainder  of  the  way,  some 
miles  in  the  interior.  "We  have  some  monks,  and  a 
priest,  on  board,  the  latter  of  whom  reminds  me  of 
Longfellow's  '  Jolly  Friar,'  and  I  think  if  there  18  hon- 
esty among  Catholics — and  we  must  be  charitable — he 
is  honest.  We  sent  him  to  her,  and  he  gathered  the 
facts  as  above ;  and  one  of  our  ladies  commenced  tak- 
ing up  a  six-penny  subscription  for  her,  raising  about 
fifteen  dollars.  We  decided  it  were  best  we  should 
keep  the  money  until  arriving  at  Queenstown,  lest  it 
should  be  swindled  from  her ;  so  the  lady — who  is  a 
Methodist — and  the  priest,  paid  the  old  won\an  a  visit 
and  told  her  what  they  had  done  for  her ;  and  so  full 
of  gratitude  was  the  poor  old  scul,  jhal  h^r  feelingi 


180  "  THE  DBSTUE  UOMETB." 

entirely  overcame  her,  and  she  could  do  notliing  bal 
weep. 

"  J  have  had  two  sea-batbs  since  coming  on  board. 
And  though  I  hare  taken  various  kinds  of  baths  pre* 
riously,  none  of  them  can  compare  with  a  bath  at  sea ; 
particularly  when  it  is  taken  in  one's  state-room  nolens 
vohns,  ap^  without  warning,  as  mine  were.  The  port- 
hole had  been  carelessly  left  unclosed  by  my  room- 
mate, and  when  the  seamen  were  washing  the  deck, 
the  water  poured  into  my  berth — which  was  the  lower 
one — in  floodb,  completely  drenching  me.  The  last 
time  I  supposed  myself  dreaming ;  thinking  I  was  on 
deck,  and  a  severe  rain-storm  coming  on,  I  would  go 
below.  In  attempti  ig  to  do  so,  I  came  up  full  against 
the  side  of  my  berth,  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  be- 
came aware  that  I  was  out  in  the  wet  in  earnest.  I 
then  undertook  to  get  out  of  my  berth ;  but  was  only 
half-awake,  it  was  dark  as  Erebus,  and  having  attempted 
one  side  with  no  success,  1  tried  at  the  end,  my  head 
coming  in  not  very  pleasant  contact  with  the  top  of  my 
berth.  Thinking  I  was  hemmed  in,  I  tried  the  right 
side,  but  not  expecting  to  be  successful,  came  near 
landing  on  my  head  on  the  floor.  1  tiaa  concluded  by 
this  time  that  sea-baths  were  not  very  pleasant  things ; 
and  on  complaining  to  the  purser,  he  gave  me  a  pleas- 
anter  room  on  the  other  side  of  the  ship.  I  was  rather 
late  in  engaging  my  passage,  and  was  obliged  to  accept 
mch  accommodations  as  were  available. 

^"  We  have  had  a  dense  fog  for  a  constant  companion 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  passage,  until  we  longed  to  *^ 
once  more  the  bright  blue  of  the  sky,  if  it  wa?  m  reai>ty 


♦♦  THE  LESIRE  COMETH."  JJl 

behind  the  heavy  mist  surrounding  us,  which  w©  wert 
•ometimes  almost  tempted  tj  doubt.  And  is  not  that 
the  way  with  our  own  hearts  ?  When  the  mist  of 
trouble  surrounds  us,  we  forget  that  just  beyond  the 
Snn  of  Righteousness  is  ever  shining,  and  though  it 
lasts  for  many  days,  if  we  will  only  wait,  the  calm 
clear  blue  of  the  sky  will  surely  come  again.  Forget 
that 

*'  *  Oar  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  aJL 
Into  each  life  some  rain  mnst  fall, 
Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary.' 

"  I  have  often  thought,  when  leaning  over  the  water, 
gazing  into  the  heaving  depths,  how  much  yon  wonld 
admire  it  if  you  were  by  my  side.  We  have  been  in 
the  Gulf  Stream  for  some  days,  and  in  the  ,vake  of  the 
vessel  by  day,  the  '  troubling  of  the  water '  produces  a 
light  blue  color,  almost  azure,  while  all  around  the 
deep  indigo  blue  of  the  Gulf  Stream  throws  it  into 
pretty  and  striking  contrast.  During  the  night,  too,  it 
is  still  lovelier.  The  animalcules,  which  are  always 
present  during  the  season  when  the  wind  sits  in  the  south, 
transmit  phosphorescent  particles,  and  these  being  ex 
cited  by  the  motion  of  the  ship,  give  a  beautiful  effect 
— the  tips  of  the  waves  around  us  being  luminous  as 
though  on  tire,  while  in  our  "car  there  is  one  broacj 
phosphoric  band,  such  as  you  will  see — in  effect — when 
the  moon  is  shining  full  on  the  water. 

"  Last  evening  we  had  a  splendid  sight.  The  high 
hills,  bleak,  barren  and  lone,  were  distinctly  defined 
against  the  blue  back-ground  of  the  heaveuB,  wbicb 


I3S  **  THE  DESnUS  JOM  tTH.^ 

were  dotted  here  and  there,  aronnd  and  aboro,  wllk 
pfttche«  of  l&zy,  fleecy  clouds,  and  soon  after  the  gun 
began  his  setting — the  first  clear  sunset  since  wfe  left 
Boston  -and  of  course  I  thought  of  my  little  friend 
who  would  have  enjoyed  the  sight  so  much,  and  think- 
mg  of  her,  I  drew  out  my  sketching  block,  and  trans- 
ferring the  outlines  of  the  scene  to  paper,  will  finish  in 
water-colors  at  my  leisure,  and  send  across  the  blue 
©cean  to  my  dear  little  girl  in  Bristol. 

"  It  was  as  pretty  a  sunset  as  one  could  wish  to  see, 
not  brilliant  and  gorgeous  as  I  have  witnessed  from 
your  own  dear  home, — as  one  in  particular  which  oc- 
curred in  our  early  acquaintance,  and  that  I  am  sure 
you  still  remember — but  just  as  beautiful  in  its  way  aa 
those.  The  clouds  were  turned  to  a  purple  grey,  and 
tipped  with  a  pure  silver  sheen,  while  the  sinking  sun 
had  the  appearance  of  molten  silver  of  the  brightest 
hue,  Americans  on  board  thought  it  the  prettiest  sun- 
set they  had  ever  seen  ;  familiarity  with  their  own  gor- 
geous ones  having  deadened  their  approbation  of  them, 
while  a  more  chaste  and  modest  one,  having  the  charm 
of  novelty,  called  forth  their  loudest  praises. 

"Early  to-morrow  we  shall  reach  Liverpool — for 
while  I  have  been  writing  we  have  been  gliding  rapidly 
onward — and  the  first  otage  of  my  journey  will  have 
been  successfully  accomplished.  I  shall  not  send  thii 
antii  I  reach  Venice,  when  I  shall  add  a  few  word* 
more. 

"  Think  often,  love,  of  your  absent  friond,  and  may 
God's  richest  blessings  ever  be  poured  on  the  head  and 
heart  of  my  dear  little  Berrie. 


**  THE  VEBIRE  COMETH." 

"TsnoB,  FA.  tML. 

**  A  madi  loLger  time  has  elapsed  ere  reaching  my 
dettiiiAtion  than  I  had  anticipated,  and  I  fear  you  will 
have  been  for  long  looking  for  a  letter  from  me  I 
was  detained  both  in  England  and  Paris,  and  have 
been  in  Italy  but  a  few  days.  I  wrote  Mr.  "Wright 
briefly  from  Liverpool,  therefore  you  have  doubtlesa 
heard  of  my  safe  arrival  there.  I  made  arrangements 
with  him  before  leaving  Boston,  to  send  my  letters  to 
you  in  his  care,  and  believe  we  may  trust  him.  I  have 
not  time  now  to  write  at  length. 

"  I  have  finished  the  sunset  sketch  I  spoke  of  earlier 
in  my  letter,  and  will  inclose  in  this. 

"  Are  you  thinking  of  the  wanderer  '  every  day  and 
every  hour'  as  you  promised,  little  gfirl?  I  hope  and 
trust  you  are. 

"  I  shall  send  my  remembrances  to  your  people  in 
Mr.  Wright's  letter,  in  which  I  inclose  this,  but  my 
love,  and  prayers,  and  fond  wishes  for  my  own  little 
Berrie,  I  send  in  this. 

"  And  now  farewell,  for  this  time*  God  bleae  and 
keep  my  love  safely  and  true  is  the  prayer  of  her 

"Friend 

''Hui  Bkbbis  BxrvTov." 


CHAPTEK   XVn. 


CONTRASTS A   BETROTHAL, 

*'  How  painfully  do  contrasts  strOn 
The  sore  and  wounded  heart, 
Doomed  from  its  dearest  eaithlj  lofW 

For  years  to  dwell  apart, 
To  look  with  eager,  hungry  eyes 

On  others'  meed  of  joy, 
Whose  crown  is  all  too  lightly  worn 
To  gratify  or  cloy." 

0.  R  O. 

ERRIE  dropped  the  letter  in  her  lap,  aud 
leaned  back  in  her  chair  with  a  little  sish  of 
content  and  perfect  satisfaction,  and  a  face 
beaming  with  that  exquisite  pleasure  which  kind 
words  and  tokens  of  remembrance  from  one  we  love 
are  certain  to  impart. 

For  a  time  she  mused  ;  then  taking  up  xhe  precioiw 
letter  again,  she  glanced  ever  the  closely  written  sheets, 
her  eyes  darkening  witli  sympathetic  sadness,  or  lipa 
imilingwith  pleasure  and  amusement,  as  the  words  she 
read  were  calculated  to  excite  those  alternate  emotions. 
When  she  reached  the  sunset  description,  she  remem- 
^rod  the  little  packet  the  letter  had  Incloeed,  which 


COITTRASTS—A  BETROTEAl^  S8ft 

had  dropped  unheeded  on  the  floor,  and  raiBing  it,  thfl 
hastily  unfolded  the  wrapping  of  tissu  epaper,  And  ut- 
tering an  exclamation  of  delight  at  the  picture  which 
met  her  eye.  It  was  small,  but  exquisitely  finished  by 
the  artistic  hand  of  her  friend,  the  reaches  of  dark 
blue  water  in  the  fore-ground  seeming  to  her  delighted 
eyes  to  almost  rise  and  fall  with  the  impulsive  throb- 
bings  of  the  ocean's  mighty  heart,  while  in  the  distanca 
rose  the  barren  cliffs  of  the  Irish  coast,  described  in  the 
letter  in  her  lap,  and  above  the  whole  bent  the  arch- 
ing heavens,  flecked  by  the  purple-grey  cloudlets,  silver- 
tipped  by  the  chaste  but  beautiful  sunset. 

It  was  an  exquisite  little  thing,  and,  though  merely 
a  water-color  sketch,  its  perfect  finish  rendered  it  valu 
able  as  a  work  of  art,  and  to  the  receiver  doubly  so, 
coming  from  the  hand  of  her  loving  artist  friend.  It 
was  too  beautiful,  she  thought,  to  hide  away  in  the 
drawer  with  the  rest  of  her  treasures ;  but  others'  know- 
ledge of  her  possession  of  it  would  excite  such  ques- 
tions as  she  did  not  care  to  answer,  and  therefore  as  she 
heard  Belle's  step  on  the  stairs,  with  one  more  linger- 
ing look  at  the  little  sketch,  and  at  the  dear  name 
which  closed  the  missive  that  had  accompanied  it,  she 
laid  them  away,  and  the  key  clicked  in  the  lock  just  ai 
her  sister's  hand  was  placed  softly  on  the  door. 

"  In  a  moment,  Belle ! "  she  called,  and  throwing 
down  the  little  key  in  her  hand,  she  hastened  to  un- 
fasten the  door  and  admit  her  sister. 

«  WeU  is  ]\Ir.  Wright  gone  ? " 

"  Yesl  and — "  blushinglyand  hesitatingly.—  "  RNrrc^ 
I  bave  something  to  tell  you  I " 


fif  OONTRABTS—A  BBTBOTHAL. 

"  Have  yon  f  "  taking  no  note  of  her  suter'f  nnbW' 
rMsment,  her  thoughts  too  full  of  her  own  affairs  to 
think  of  anght  beside,  and  blushing  slightly  m  sht 
wondered  vaguely  if  it  was  anything  concerning  hef 
•wn  dear  absent  friend,  that  her  sister  had  to  comma- 
laicate. 

"What  is  it,  Belle?"  she  went  on,  "anything  nice!" 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  think  it  is  I  " 

Berrie  turned  and  looked  at  her,  as  the  trembling, 
confused  tones  of  her  sister  struck  her  ear. 

"  What  is  it.  Belle  ?  do  tell  me  1 "  she  exclaimed 
eagerly. 

The  girl  held  up  her  finger  on  which  sparkled  a  soli- 
taire ring,  and  said,  laughing  archly  in  the  midst  of  her 
blushes :    "  Can't  you  guess  what  this  means,  Berrie  t " 

"  Of  course  I  can  1  that  I  am  to  congratulate  you, 
does  it  not  ?  "  adding,  as  she  put  her  arms  around  her 
sister  and  kissed  her  warmly,  "  I  do,  dear,  with  all  my 
heart  I " 

"  I  know  you  do,"  whispered  Belle.  "  And  oh  I  Ber- 
rie, I  wish  you  were  as  happy  as  I  am." 

A  moment  before  the  girl  had  thought  her  happinesa 
full  and  complete.  To  find  her  doubts  all  annihilated, 
to  hold  in  her  hand  the  proof  or  token  of  her  friend  g 
continued  love  and  remembrance,  had  seemed  enough 
to  fill  her  heart  with  joy;  but  in  the  preserce  of  her 
lister's  full  tide  of  happiness  her  pleasure  paled ;  aU 
the  lonely  longing  of  the  past  few  months  for  a  sight 
of  her  dear  one,  all  the  weary  waste  of  years  which 
•tretched  between  her  hope  and  its  glad  fruition,  ail  the 
possible  chances  or  mischances  of  the  future,  ruAhed 


(J0NTRAST8-A  BETROTHAL,  Sff 

back  to  her  heart,  and  her  joy  of  the  previous  moment 
■eemed  but  a  mockery,  compared  to  her  Bister**  com« 
plete  and  triumphant  happiness. 

With  a  little  short  laugh,  she  exclaimed  bitterly! 
'*  Oh,  /  am  happy.  Belle,  why  should  you  doubt  it  ?  ** 
and  releasing  her  sister  from  her  clasp,  she  sat  down 
wearily  in  the  nearest  chair. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  blind,  Berrie  ?  I  know  you  art 
not  happy." 

"  I  thought  I  was,  at  least  a  moment  ago.  But  jou 
know 

*  None  here  are  happy,  Bare  in  part, 
Full  bliAS  \s  bliBS  divine.' " 

"  I  know,  but  if  you  were  as  happy  as  I  am,  I  would 
be  satisfied." 

"  Well,  I  am  thoroughly  glad  that  you  are,  if,  u  you 
persist,  I  am  not." 

Belle  said  no  more,  but  stood  looking  at  her  with  a 
world  of  sympathetic  regret  expressed  in  her  speaking 
face,  until  Berrie  could  endure  it  no  longer,  and  with 
a  little  ner'^ous  shiver  and  laugh,  turned  away,  covers 
ing  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  exclaiming :  "  Don\ 
Belle  1  why  do  you  look  at  me  so  1 " 

Belle  sprang  to  her  side,  and  winding  one  arm 
around  the  girl's  neck,  said  tenderly  *  "  Can't  you  trust 
your  sister,  Berrie? 

'  The  grief  that  doth  not  speak 
Whiapert  the  o'er-franght  heart  and  bida  it  brMK,' 

you  know." 
Beni«  bunt  into  lears  without  reply,  and  her  liftat 


S8S  C0NTBABT8-A   BETROTHAL. 

let  her  Bilence  express  the  sympathv  she  ccUd  not  at 
tor.  At  last  she  said  softly  :  "You  need  not  tell  ibi8| 
Berne  1  1  know  that  Eugene  lias  gone  away  and  taken 
your  heart  with  him ;  but  1  know,  also,  that  he  lovei 
you  as  well  as  you  do  him," 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  tremblingly. 

Belle  laughed.  "  Why  I  have  known  it,  child,  for 
months.     I  am  not  so  blind  as  you  think  me." 

"  Did  he  tell  Mr.  Wright  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  indeed  I  George  has  never  men- 
tioned the  matter  to  me." 

"  He  had  other  things  more  interesting  to  talk  of,  I 
suppose  1 "  smiling  as  she  wiped  away  the  traces  of 
tears,  relieved  to  turn  the  conversation  from  herself. 

"  Well— I  don't  know  about  that  1  "  blushingly. 

"  When  is  he  going  back  to  Boston  ? " 

"  To-morrow ;  but  he  will  be  up  in  the  morning  to 
say  good-by." 

"  And  when  is  it  to  be  ?    Am  I  to  be  bridesmaid  ? " 

"  Oh,  certainly  I  I  don't  know  when — in  the  fall,  I 
presume.  I  wish  Eugene  was  here  that  we  might  have 
a  double  wedding." 

"  Oh,  that  might  not  follow  I " 

"  Berrie,  what  became  of  yom  picture  that  was  in  thi 
album?" 

"  Isn't  it  there  now  ?  oh,  I  remember,  I  took  it  out 
and  forgot  to  replace  it " — with  another,  she  adtled  to 
herself,  vexed  that  she  should  have  neglected  to  d<j 
•o. 

"Indeed  ?  "  and  Belle  laughed  mischievously. 

^  Come,  Miss  Isabel,  it  is  time  we  were  ir  l>«>d.     He 


OONTRASTB—A  BETROTHAL.  $89 

membei,  I  have  not  received  a  proposal  of  marruige 
to-night,  and  so  may  be  Bupposed  to  desire  a  little 
lleep;  and  it  is  very  late,  do  you  know,  Miss  Bur- 
ton ? "  and  she  held  her  watch  before  her  sister's  face. 

"  Well,  good-night,  then,  and  pleasant  dreams,  Ber- 
irie  1  "  as  she  kissed  her  and  turned  to  the  door. 

"  The  same  to  yourself,  as  I  suppose  they  are  sure  to 
be,  sleeping  or  waking." 

Belle  looked  back  and  laughed  ;  then  the  door  softly 
closed  behind  her. 

A  hasty  disrobing,  a  few  moments'  silent  kneeling 
beside  the  low  white  bed,  an  unlocking  of  the  private 
drawer,  and  last  peep  at  the  smiling  face  beneath  the 
glittering  cluster  of  jewels  in  the  tiny  casket,  and  dark- 
ness and  silence  reigned  through  the  entire  house. 

Mr.  Wright  called  in  the  morning,  asked  and  re- 
ceived the  consent  of  Belle's  parents  to  their  engage- 
ment, and  departed  on  the  afternoon  train  for  Boston, 
of  course  a  happy  man. 

As  Berrie  gave  him  her  hand  in  farewell,  she  said, 
archly  smiling  up  in  his  face :  "  I  suppose  I  am  to  con- 
gratulate you,  Mr.  Wright  I  Please  accept  my  best 
wishes  for  all  manner  of  future  happiness  to  you  and 
Belle." 

"  Thanks,  Berrie  1  and  " — lowering  his  voice — "  I 
suppose  I  may  return  the  compliment  in  two  or  three 
years  from  now,  when  a  certain  friend  of  ours  returns 
from  his  wanderings  I  eh,  Berrie  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know ! "  was  the  blushing  reply,  as  she 
anook  her  head  doubtfully.  "  Possibly  you  may  hare 
an  opportunity  before." 


f40  C0irTRA8TS-A   BETBOTHAL. 

"  PoMibly,  but  pardon  me,  if  I  say  I  hops  not  I " 

"Indeed I  one  would  think  your  own  happincM 
would  cause  you  to  wish  others  the  same." 

**  So  it  does,  Berrie  I  but  at  the  same  time  I  fthonld 
be  •crry  to  have  Eugene  disappointed  in  hia  Httla 
friend' 8  truth  V 

"  You  know  too  much,  Mr.  Wright,  by  far  1 "  as  with 
crimson  cheeks  she  turned  away. 

A  significant  but  good-natured  laugh  was  hit  reply, 
and  Belle  inquired  :  "  What  are  you  two  talking  about 
BO  confidentially  there  1 '" 

"  No  cause  for  jealousy,  Belle  I "  returned  Bern©, 
hastily ;  ''  Mr.  Wright  was  only  adviaing  me  to  '  go  vai 
AolikewiM."' 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

▲   "  80HX)LMa'aM  " — LETTERS   AND  REPLIBL 

"  Love  offered  her 
k  dewy  wreath  of  myrtle,  twined  with  roses ;  but 
Through  vistas  dim  she  saw  th'  aUuring  form  of  Fam*, 
Who  gayly  beckoned,  offering  a  tiny  sprig 
Of  Laurel,  while  close  at  Fame's  side  stood  golden-haiztd 
And  bright-faced  Wealth.     She  saw  with  eyes  that  by  the  right 
Were  dazzled — gazed,  and  crushed  beneath  her  careless  feet 
The  crown  of  love  and  happiness,  with  eager  hands 
Far  Fame's  poor  guerdon    reaohing,  which    might  piOTe  wbaa 

grasped 
But  withered  leave*  !  *' 


JBLE  golden  sunlight  of  a  warm  June  aftemooE 
'i^^  stole  into  the  little  school-house  of  an  inland 
^jTp*  New  England  town,  where  sat  our  old  acquaint- 
ance, Miss  Helen  Harrington,  with  an  open  letter  Id 
her  hand,  and  smother  upon  the  desk  beside  her. 

"  It  was  an  old-fashioned  little  affair,  that  country 
**  temple  of  knowledge,"  situated  in  the  edge  of  the 
village,  on  the  borders  of  a  grove  of  trees,  composed  ol 
nearly  every  variety  which  beautiful,  fertile  New 
England  can  boast    A  little  low,  one-ftory  bniXding, 


)4a  LSTTERS  AND  REPLIES 

witfi  tiny  entry  in  which  to  Jeposit  the  caos,  slukwli, 
andsan-bonnets  of  the  village  children  who  spent  apoiv 
tion  of  the  day  witliin  its  walls,  and  with  old-fashioned 
seats  and  unpainted  desks,  which  the  ruthless  handft— 
or  knives — of  raischievouE  boys  of  many  generationf 
had  scored,  and  chipped,  and  carved,  until  they  had 
lost  all  syrametr}'  and  native  polish. 

The  teacher's  desk  was  on  a  low  platform  at  one  end 
of  the  unattractive  room,  and  before  it  sat  the  weary 
teacher  hereelf,  with  aching  brow,  and  every  nerve  in  a 
quiver,  heartily  glad  that  the  duties  of  the  day  were 
over,  and  she  was  at  last  rid  of  the  noisy,  restless  group 
of  children,  which,  in  the  excited  state  of  her  nervea, 
had  made  the  day  one  long  torture  to  her. 

It  was  uncongenial  employment  to  her,  this  "  teach- 
ing  the  young  ideas,"  antagonistic  to  all  her  tastes  and 
aspirations,  although  she  tried  her  best  to  do  her  duty 
in  the  sphere  in  which  God  had  placed  her ;  and,  dis- 
tasteful  as  was  her  occupation,  the  firmness  of  will  and 
character  she  possessed  rendering  perfect  discipline 
an  easy  matter  to  iier,  made  her  more  than  ordinarily 
successful  as  a  teacher,  while  lier  native  grace  and  kind- 
ness of  heart  attached  her  pupils  to  her,  and  won  gol- 
den opinions  from  the  parents  of  the  children  with 
whom  she  had  to  deal.  In  truth,  the  delicacy  of  her 
nervous  organization  was  the  greatest  barrier  to  her 
Cv^ntent  or  happiness  even. 

The  days  were  exceedingly  warm  for  the  season,  and 
the  restless  motion  of  the  many  little  feet  on  the  nn- 
carpeted  floor,  the  constant  buzz  of  voices  which  it 
was  impossible  to  qaell  entirely,  the  necessity  for  exor* 


LETTERS  AND  RBPLIEa,  843 

tl«ki  «rliich  now  and  then  a  refractory  pupil  enforced^ 
all  acting  upon  her  susceptible  nerves,  made  teaching  a 
torture  to  her,  and  the  close  of  a  session  an  unqualified 
relief.  Besides  all  this,  her  health  of  late  was  none  of 
the  best,  and  the  wannth  c :  the  season  but  adde^l  t</ 
the  lassitude  and  weariness  she  found  it  impossible  ts 
shake  off. 

She  had  spent  the  winter  in  one  of  the  graded  schooli 
of  Boston,  where  she  had  a  pleasant  and  lucrative 
situation,  but  her  health  becoming  impaired,  and  the 
necessity  for  work  remaining,  she  resolved  to  apply  for 
some  small  school  in  the  country,  hoping  that  the  clear, 
pure,  inland  air  might  restore  her  drooping  health  and 
energies.  But  children  are  the  same  all  the  world  over, 
and  the  little  bare-footed,  sometimes  uncouth  country 
urchins,  were  no  less  trying  to  their  teacher  than  the 
mischievous  city  children  had  proved,  and  her  health 
and  spirits  had  rather  retrograded  than  improved. 

But  she  had  on»  other  motive  besides  this  for  seeking 
a  quiet  summer  in  the  country.  The  sub-master  of  the 
school  in  Boston  in  which  she  was  employed  as  a 
teacher,  had  taken  a  lively  interest  in  the  proud  but 
gifted  girl,  and  a  warm  friendship  had  been  the  result 
Indeed,  it  had  come  to  be  more  than  friendship  on  the 
man's  part  ere  they  separated,  although,  for  a  long  time, 
quite  unconsciously  to  Helen.  He  was  a  man  of  rare 
culture  and  refinement,  a  gentleman  in  the  truest  sense 
of  the  word,  and  she  had  enjoyed  his  society  exceed- 
ingly, until  startled  by  a  betrayal  of  his  passion  for  her, 
when  she  had  immediately  resigned  her  position  in  the 
fcbool,  and  abmptLy  left  the  sity.     She  did  not  stop  to 


144  UBTTEES  AyV  REPLIES, 

ftsk  liereelf  if  she  cared  for  him  in  rotora,— ike  only 
felt  that  she  could  not  continue  to  meet  him  on  th« 
provioufl  free  and  cordial  terms  did  she  refuse  him,  and 
with  hei  old  resolve  to  marry  only  one  who  had  "  plenty 
of  money,"  as  she  had  expressed  it  in  her  school  days, 
felt  that  she  could  not  accept  him. 

Therefore,  without  giving  him  the  opportunity  to 
make  the  declaration  which  she  knew  he  was  desirous 
to  do,  she  had  feigned  indisposition— or  yielded  to  it, 
rather,  for  she  was  far  from  well — resigned  her  position 
by  letter,  and  returned  to  her  home,  where  she  re- 
mained until  accepting  her  present  engagement  in  th« 
country.  And  though  even  yet  she  would  not  acknowl- 
odge  that  she  cared  for  him,  the  consciousness  that  she 
was  so  dear  to  him  rarely  left  her,  and  she  was  restless, 
dissatisfied,  unhappy,  and  daily  losing  ground  in  health, 
strength,  and  spirits. 

The  enthusiastic  reception  of  her  valedictory  at  the 
close  of  school,  had  first  suggested  the  idea  of  turning 
her  talents  to  account,  but  notwithstanding  her  dom- 
inant and  haughty  nature,  she  was  somewhat  dis- 
trustful of  her  powers,  and  a  rather  extensive  reading 
had  given  her  a  better  understanding  of  the  difficulties 
attending  the  labors  of  an  aspirant  for  literary  honors 
than  many  amateur  authors  have  possessed.  Therefore 
she  shrank  from  undertaking  what  might  prove  in  the 
end  but  a  mortifying  failure. 

Entertaining  a  high  opinion  of  her  gifts  and  abili- 
ties, her  friend  had  repeatedly  urged  her  to  enter  the 
literary  lists,  and  give  scope  and  exercise  to  what  ho 
eoniidered  her  rare  talents.    At  first  she  had  laughed 


ETTER8  ANJ)  RBPLIEB.  $4B 

at  the  suggestion,  and  at  last,  when  he  had  one  evening 
Mtked  her  abruptly  why  she  did  not  attempt  to  write  ■ 
book,  she  had  replied  frankly,  '*  I  cannot  afford  it,  Mr, 
Carlisle." 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  returned,  "  I  scarcely  understand 
you." 

She  laughed.  "I  thought  I  spoke  plainly  enough; 
I  cannot  afford  to  do  so." 

"  Is  it  such  an  expensive  undertaking  ? " 

"  Yes,  it  would  require  an  outlay  of  time  that  I  hav€ 
not  at  command." 

«  Well,  take  the  time  then  1 " 

"  As  I  said  before,  I  cannot  afford  it.  I  must  work 
at  something  that  pays." 

"  But  a  successful  novel  brings  often  large  pecaniary 
reward." 

"  I  know,  but  I  might  not  be  able  to  write  a  SfioceM- 
fnl  one." 

"  I  have  no  doubts  on  the  subject." 

"  Well,  I  have !  to  say  nothing  of  the  difficulties  in 
publishing  that  an  unknown  author  must  necessarily 
experience." 

"  Many  young  authors  think  that  any  publisher  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  print  their  effusions." 

'  I  am  more  modest,  you  see,  or  have  a  better  under- 
itanding  of  the  difficulties  attending  the  beginning  of  a 
literary  career.  Besides,  I  have  not  the  nerve  or  spirits 
to  encounter  the  discouragements,  criticisms,  and  per- 
haps failures  that  I  should  have  to  contend  with." 

^'  Still,  were  you  to  undertake  it,  I  ahoald  hava  na 
fears  of  jour  non-saccess" 


94^  LETTERS  AlfD  REPLIES. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  and  I  feel  greatly  flattered  •! 
your  high  estimate  of  ray  abilities ;  but  I  do  not  set 
how  you  can  know  anything  about  it,  as  you  have  nev«f 
•een  a  word  of  mine,  to  my  knowledge." 

Although  the  subject  was  soon  dropped,  it  was  not 
forgotten  by  her,  and  stimulated  by  his  opinion  of  the 
possibilities  of  her  nature,  she  resolved  to  attempt  a 
work  of  fiction,  and  if  she  should  succeed  to  her  own  sat- 
isfaction, to  make  an  effort  to  publish,  allowing  herself 
to  be  discouraged  by  no  obstacles  which  she  might  en- 
counter. But  engagements  were  so  numerous  during 
the  remainder  of  her  residence  in  the  city  that  she  had 
v\o  opportunity  to  commence  the  great  undertaking,  and 
though  she  supposed  she  should  have  sufficient  leisure 
during  her  country  engagement  to  at  least  make  a  be- 
ginning, yet  when  the  irksome  duties  of  the  day  were 
over,  she  was  invariably  so  weary  and  nervous  that  she 
had  no  inclination,  or  in  fact  power,  to  enter  on  a  work 
which  should  only  be  pursued  when  mind  and  body  are 
fresh,  vigorous,  untrammelled,  and  capable  of  being  en- 
tirely concentrated  on  the  subject  in  question.  Thai 
her  literary  powers  were  still  untested,  and  her  aspira^ 
tions  in  no  immediate  likelihood  of  being  realized. 

The  letter  which  she  hold  in  her  hand  on  this  sunny 
June  afternoon,  was  closely  but  deLcately  written,  and 
as  we  take  the  somewhut  rude  liberty  of  looking  ova* 
her  shoulder,  we  perceive  that  she  is  at  the  mcment 
perusing  the  following  passage ; 

"  Now,  Helen  dear,  you  see  that  I  will  not  take  *  no* 
tor  aiuwer  to  my  desire  that  you  should  oom«  and 


LETTERS  AND  REPLIB&,  $47 

■pemd  at  least  a  portion  of  jenr  vacation  with  me. 
Mau<!!  Lester  will  be  here  in  a  week  or  two,  Bristol  ii 
lovely  at  this  season,  and  I  have  many  a  plan  for  en- 
joyment while  my  old  school  friends,  Maud  and  Helen, 
are  with  me.  Come  at  your  very  earliest  convenience, 
and  be  assured  you  will  receive  a  warm  welcome, 
from 

"  Your  old  fi'iend, 

Berrik." 

The  other  letter,  and  which  next  received  her  atten- 
tion, was  not  as  lengthy,  but  written  in  a  manly  hand, 

and  read  as  follows  : 

"Boston,  Juru  lit. 
"  My  Deae  Miss  Hakeington  : 

"  Having  learned  accidentally  of  your  place  of  sojourn 
during  the  summer,  I  take  the  liberty  of  writing  to 
you,  to  tell  you  what  your  abrupt  departure  from  Bos- 
ton has  prevented  my  doing  previously.  Trusting  I 
shall  not  give  offence  by  expressing  the  pleasure  my 
acquaintance  with  you  has  given  me  in  the  past,  the 
sincere  regret  I  experienced  at  your  sudden  resigna- 
tion., the  unbounded  attachment  I  have  for  you,  or  by 
my  presuming  to  ask  a  reciprocity  of  ray  affection,  and 
the  hope  that  at  some  not  distant  day  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  see  your  face  once  more,  and  claim  the  rights 
of  an  accepted  suitor  for  your  heart  and  hand. 

"  I  am  conscious,  Helen,  that  I  am  expressing  very 
awkwardly,  and  perhaps  coldly,  my  sincere  love  for 
you,  but  hope  that  your  own  heart  will  assure  you  that 
there  is  no  corresponding  coolness  in  mine  ;  only  th« 
lomolt  of  an  anxious,  earnest  passion,  3!iSering  the  tor- 


IM  LETTERS  ANT)  REPijIEB. 

tnref  of  do  abt  and  uncertainty,  which,  in  *he  ignonnei^ 
of  your  feelings  for  mr,  I  can  but  experience. 

"  I  will  Bay  no  more.     Please  let  me  have  an  an- 
swer as  early  as  possible,  and  Helen,  my  love,  I  beg 
you  will  give  as  favorable  a  reply  as  you  can  in  oon* 
science  do,  believing  that  I  must  ever  remain 
"  Yours  truly  and  devotedly, 

"  Edwasd  Cart.tht.k 
^  MiBS  Helen  Haekinoton." 

The  regal  brow  of  the  girl  became  contracted  as  sh« 
laid  the  letter  on  the  desk  beside  the  other,  and  bent 
her  head  on  her  hand  in  deep,  and  evidently  troubled 
reverie.  The  lettei*s  had  both  arrived  in  the  morning 
mail,  but  a  hasty  glancing  over  the  contents  was  all  her 
time  permitted,  until,  the  duties  of  the  day  at  last  over, 
and  the  noisy  troop  of  scholars  dismissed,  she  was  at 
liberty  to  ponder  the  contents  of  the  two  epistles  before 
her. 

Although  the  reception  of  the  latter  had  been  a  sur- 
prise to  her,  the  sentiments  and  desires  it  embodied 
were  none.  She  knew  that  he  loved  he,  that  he 
would  gladly  take  1:  er  to  his  heart  and  do  his  best  to 
shield  her  from  the  ills  of  life  ;  knew  also  that  L^  wa« 
a  true,  noble  man,  worthy  her  highest  esteem  and  re- 
gard ;  but  she  was  ambitious  for  wealth  and  fame,-— 
she  knew  he  could  not  give  the  one,  and  feared  that 
the  housewifely  duties  she  would  be  obliged  to  assume 
as  his  wife  would  entirely  interfere  with  the  other. 
Therefore  she  deliberately  shut  her  eyes  to  the  blessing 
which  the  love  and  protection  of  such  a  man  would  Im 


LMTTEBB  AITD  REPUmS. 

Id  her,  oarelessly  threw  away  the  greatest  boon  that 
life  oonld  offer  her,  and  utterly  refused  to  listen  to  thtf 
pleadings  of  her  own  heart,  or  confess  that  the  affec< 
tion  BO  nobly  offered  to  her,  was  really  and  truly  re 
ciprocated. 

She  was  still  very  young,  knew  nothing  of  love  8»ve 
in  theory,  and  did  not  realize  but  what  her  preference 
for  him  was  such  as  she  might  feel  for  any  other 
man, — one  who  could  give  her  the  advantages  which 
the  craved.  Nor  could  she  appreciate  or  value  an  affeo- 
tion  or  protection  that  an  older  woman  would  have 
felt  to  be  the  highest  and  best  of  earth's  poor  offerings. 

Therefore,  after  a  half-hour's  painful  and  perplexing 
reverie,  she  drew  from  the  desk  before  her  paper  and 
pens,  and  proceeded  to  reply  to  the  letters  in  hand. 

"  W.— J«n«. 
"My  Deab  Beeeie, — 

"  I  am  more  pleased  than  1 

can  tell  yon  at  your  kind  invitation  to  pass  some  time 
with  you  this  horribly  dull  and  tedious  summer,  and  1 
assure  you  I  shall  hasten  to  avail  myself  of  it,  just  as 
soon  as  I  can  get  rid  of  those  troublesome  torments  to 
whom  I  am  at  present  tied.  Thank  the  Fates,  Berrie, 
tLat  they  did  not  doom  you  to  the  destiny  of  a  school- 
ma'am.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  see  where  is  the  use  of 
inch  &  tfoop  of  youngsters  ;  there  were  people  enough 
in  the  world  years  ago,  in  my  way  of  thinking. 

"  You  may  coimt  on  seeing  me  about  the  last  week 
liQ  July,  and  in  the  meantime  believe  me, 

**  Your  affectionate  bat  disgusted  fiiend. 


ISO  LBTTBRS  AND  REPLiES. 

*  P.  8. — My  love  to  Mand  when  she  arrives,  and  tcL 
her  I  have  not  yet  seen  that  gallant  knight  with  plenty 
of  money  whom  she  was  to  send  to  rescue  me  from  tht 
•chool-room.  I  am  all  ready  to  welcome  so  desirablf 
ftn  article. 

The  reply  to  the  other  epistle  was  written  with  more 
deliberation  and  care,  and  though  it  contained  a  re- 
fusal of  the  boon  desired,  it  was  couched  in  the  most 
gentle  and  respectful  terms.  She  thanked  him  grate- 
fully for  the  honor  he  had  done  her,  expressed  much 
regret  at  the  pain  her  decision  might  cost  him,  assured 
him  of  her  high  esteem  and  constant  friendship  for 
him,  and  hoped  that  their  old  pleasant  intercourse 
might  one  day  be  renewed  without  a  thought  of  regret 
on  either  side.  On  the  whole,  it  was  a  very  gentle  and 
womanly  letter,  such  as  one  would  not  have  deemed 
it  possible  for  the  haughty,  imperious  Ilelen  Harring- 
ton to  have  written.  There  was  one  noticeable  thing 
about  it,  however  ;  although  her  refusal  of  his  suit  wa« 
decided,  she  did  not  once  say  that  she  could  not  return 
his  love,  and  in  fact,  gave  not  a  single  reason  for  her 
rejection. 

The  letters  written,  sealed,  and  addretused,  ehe 
donned  her  hat  and  proceeded  to  her  boardiug-plac©, 
only  pausing  at  the  post-office  to  dejjosit  the  important 
miaeives,  and  receiving  in  return  a  letter  from  her 
mother  which  had  arrived  in  the  afternoon  mail. 


CHAPTER  XTX. 


A  DEOULEATTON. 


**  One  kiss  before  ne  part  I 

Bat  one  I  for  lovers  sweet  nk*  I 
To  sweeten  for  my  heart 

The  pain  of  this  mistake^ 
Yonr  hand  is  in  my  own, 

But  your  head  is  turned  away ; 
For  the  first  time  and  the  last, 
One  little  kiss,  I  pray." 

HOWABD  QhTSMm. 

"  Is  it  right 
For  instance,  to  wed  here,  while  you  love  there  T  ** 

Mbs.  BBowHnra. 


^ERRIE,  Berrie  I  where  nre  you  ? "  called  Hatti« 
from  the  entrance  hall,  one  morning  early  in 
July,  while   Charlie   Anderson  stood  on  the 
piazza,  absently  tapping  his  boot  with  his  cane. 

"  Please  come  in,  Mr.  Anderson,"  she  continued,  ai 

ghe  received  no  response  to  her  summons ;  "  I  don't 

knvA7  where  she  is,  I  am  sure,  but  I  dare  say  I  can  find 

Uer." 

6he  oonduoted  ib9  gentleman  to  the  parlor,  oool  and 


A  DBOLARATIOir. 

lovely  with  its  cloee-draivn  Ijlinds,  and  adornmenti  of 
handsome  bouquets,  then  ran  upstairs  in  search  of  her 
■ister.  Meeting  Belle  in  the  upper  hall,  eho  inqnired: 
"  Belle,  do  you  know  where  Berrie  is  ?  Charlie  Andeor 
ion  is  in  the  parlor,  and  I  can't  find  her  anywhere." 

"  Have  you  been  to  her  room?  *' 

"  Yes  1  she  isn't  there." 

"  Well,  perhaps  she  is  in  the  garden  ;  if  not,  she  hM 
gone  out  probably," 

Down  the  stairs  tripped  the  light  little  feet,  and  out 
on  the  side  piazza,  calling  again:  "Berrie,  Berrie  1 
where  are  you  ? " 

"  Here  I  am,  Hattie ;  what  do  you  want  ? "  cad  the 
graceful  figure  emerged  from  behind  a  grape-arbor, 
where  she  had  been  stooping  over  a  bed  of  pansies. 
Her  pretty  pink  morning  dress  was  tucked  up  and 
pinned  behind  her,  a  wide  hat  concealed  the  sparkling, 
piquant  face,  and  in  her  ungloved  hand,  the  palm  of 
which  was  covered  with  rich  brown  soil,  she  held  a 
email  garden  trowel. 

"  Oh,  Charlie  Anderson  wants  to  see  you,  and  I  have 
been  looking  everywhere  for  you." 

"  la  he  alone,  Hattie?  Ht.'e,  unpin  my  dresa,  won't 
you,  please  ? " 

"  Yes,  he  is  alone ;  but  you  aren't  gomg  in  with 
those  dirty  hands,  are  you,  Berrie  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  am  ;  I  don't  care  for  him."  And  the 
girl's  dark  eyes  sparkled  mischievously. 

Her  face  was  very  bright  and  gay  that  morning,  and 
it  was  evident  she  was  in  one  of  her  liveliest  moods.  Foi 
though  at  times  she  missed  and  wanted  h&r  friend  ic 


A  DECLARATIOF.  SttI 

much  that  it  made  her  very  sad,  she  did  nat  always  yield 
to  such  depressing  feelings,  and  since  she  received  hii 
letter,  now  two  or  three  months  ago,  she  was  often  ai  gay 
and  lively  as  in  the  days  before  love  had  com©  into  her 
heart,  stealing  from  it  a  little  of  its  freshness  and  elafr 
ticity.  She  had  become  somewhat  accustomed  to  his 
absence,  and  really  congratulated  lierself  on  the  patience 
with  which  she  was  bearing  the  long,  and  ofttimes  weary 
probation.  Spring,  with  its  exhilarating  days,  and  the 
brightness  of  summer,  had  restored  the  fulness  of  her 
usually  perfect  health,  and  her  spirits  were  almost  as 
bright  and  gay  as  they  had  been  the  previous  ;/ear. 

"  Good  morning,  Charlie !  of  course  yoii  wish  to 
shake  hands?"  and  she  laughingly  eiceaded  a  little 
palm  fresh  from  contact  with  the  mi  ist  brown  earth. 

"  I  don't  know  about  it,  Beme  ^  '  glancing  at  his 
neat  grey  glove.  "  What  have  you  been  doing  with 
yourself  ? " 

"  Me  ?  oh,  only  gardening  a  little  -not  making  dirt 
pies.  I  thought  I  would  take  advantage  of  this  cloudy 
morning  to  transplant  some  slips  that  required  it.  Ao- 
cordingly,  you  see  the  result ! "  laughing  as  she  held 
np  her  hands,  and  peeped  mischievously  up  from  tht 
shade  of  her  broad-brimmed  hat. 

"  But  where  are  your  gloves  ? "  rotomed  the  iajt 
tidious  gentleman. 

"  Gloves  I  oh,  in  my  p<jcket,  1  think.  I  oouldn't 
bother  with  gloves  around  those  delicite  little  plants. 
My  hands  will  wash,  I  assure  you,"  laiw^hingly, 

"Indeed) "  bending  over  the  low  cb  tir  in  which  sb« 
hftd  seated  hersell 


f54  A  DBOLARATIOF. 

«Oh  yes!"  holding  them  ont.  «I>>nt  they  look 
pretty,  Charlie  !  wouldn't  you  like  to  kisa  them  f  "  and 
the  mischievous  girl  glanced  archly  up  in  her  compan- 
ion's  face,  which  was  bent,  she  thought,  rather  too  near 
her  own ;  therefore  she  pushed  back  her  chair  slightly 
as  he  returned,  smiling :  "  Why  no,  Berrie,  I  do  not 
think  I  would." 

"  No  ?  why  now  I  thought  you  might  1 "  still  laugh- 
ing archly. 

"  Why  should  I,  Berrie,  when  I  can  kiss  yonr  lip« 
mstead  1  "  and  he  stooped  to  suit  the  action  to  the 
word ;  but  ere  he  could  reach  her,  she  had  sprung  from 
her  chair  and  was  across  the  room,  exclaiming :  "  But 
von  can't  do  that,  this  time  ! " 

The  gentleman  looked  somewhat  discomfited,  and 
Berrie  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  laughing. 

"  No,  Charlie,  I  don't  believe  in  such  things !  No 
girl  should  yield  her  lips  save  to  her  betrothed  lover, 
and  even  then  not  too  freely.  That's  a  good  theory, 
Charlie,  if  very  little  practised.  I  know  that  often, 
now-a-days,  when  gentlemen  pay  particular  attentions 
to  a  lady,  they  are  allowed  such  privileges  from  the 
first;  while  there  may  be  nothing  serious  in  the  atten- 
tions, and  she  may  keep  company  with  a  half-dozen  h^ 
fore  she  marries.  I  don't  believe  in  it,  Cbariie  I "  and 
ihe  shook  her  head,  smilingly. 

"  I  don't  like  prudes,  Berrie !  "  he  returned. 

"Neither  do  1 1  but  it  is  better  to  err  in  thst  direo- 
Uon,  even,  than  the  other.  I  like  for  girls  to  keep 
their  own  respect,  however,  and  then  they  are  pret^ 
fleortain  to  have  that  of  the  other  sex." 


A  DRCLARATUN. 

*  Ton  don't  care  for  kisses,  Eerrie  1  ** 

"  Yes  I  do,  who  does  not  ?  but  I  care  for  my  lelf- 
recpect  more ;  and  there  is  only  one  man  that  can  giTt 
me  them,  Charlie." 

"  And  who  is  that ?  Eugene  Adair?  "  bitterlj. 

The  girl  flushed  rosily,  but  returned :  "  Don't  talk 
nonsense,  Charlie  I     I  mean  the  man  that  I  marry." 

"And  that  is?" 

"  The  Future  and  the  Fates  must  determine  I " 
laughing. 

The  man  drew  nearer,  and  bending  over  her,  said 
tenderly :  "  Let  them  decide  on  me,  Berrie  1  Give  me 
this  little  hand,  and  with  it  the  right  to  take  the  kiM«if 
you  have  just  denied  me." 

It  was  out  in  spite  of  her,  successfully  as  she  had 
previously  warded  it  oif.  She  reproached  herself  for 
entering  into  such  a  conversation  with  him,  but  the 
crisis  had  come,  and  she  must  meet  it  as  bravely  as  she 
could. 

With  a  little  embarrassed  laugh,  she  said,  showing 
him  her  hands:  "  You  forget  the  soil,  Charlie  I" 

"  No  1  you  said  they  would  wash.  Don't  trifle  with 
me,  Berrie." 

The  girl  looked  down  without  replying,  and  he  con- 
tinued :  "  You  do  love  me  a  little,  don't  you,  Berrie  I  ™ 
and  bending  nearer :  "  May  I  have  my  kiss  ? " 

"  No,  Charlie,  -.  cannot  give  it  you  I "  without  look- 
ing up. 

"  Berrie ! "  with  a  sharp  ring  of  pain  in  his  yoice 
"  Do  you  mean  to  reject  my  love — to  teil  me  that  yon 
do  not  care  for  me?  " 


A  DEOLARATIOM. 

■  Forfire  mo,  Charlie  1  I  tried  mj  beet  to  tpftre  ywi 
thii." 

He  caught  her  handa,  soiled  as  thej  were,  and  ex- 
eULmed :  ''  Berrie,  look  at  me  I "  and  then  m  ibtf 
obeyed :  "  Don't  you,  carCt  you  love  me  ? " 

She  shook  her  head  sadly  and  slowly  without  other 
w^ly. 

For  a  moment  he  looked  at  her,  his  handsome  violet 
eyes  darkened  with  pain ;  then  she  exclaimed,  attemp^ 
ing  unsuccessfully  to  draw  away  her  hands :  "  I  am  so 
sorry,  Charlie  1  I  tried  to  make  you  see  that  it  nevei 
could  be,  but  you  would  not  understand." 

"  *  Love  is  blind,' "  he  returned,  "  and  oh,  Berrie,  I 
do  love  you  I " 

He  saw  her  eyes  fill  with  teai-s  under  his  glance,  and 
he  said  more  gently :  "  Berrie,  do  you  love  another  1 
May  I  not  kiss  you  because  1  should  take  another 
man's  caress  from  your  lips  ? " 

She  avoided  the  former  question,  blushing  eloquently 
however,  and  replied  to  the  other :  "  I  told  you  why, 
Charhfll'-" 

"  If  I  may  not  hope  for  a  kiss  of  love  from  yon, 
Berrie,  won't  you  break  through  your  rule  for  once, 
•ad  givtt  me  one  for  friendship's  sake  ? " 

She  would  have  done  it  for  very  pity  had  she  been 
tree,  had  her  lips  not  belonged  to  another,  and  to  hin 
■lene.  did  not  her  betrothal  kiss  seem  still  iijsgering  on 
her  month.     So  she  answered  gently  and  sadly:  **I 

I't,  don't  ask  me,  Charlie  1 " 

"  Nor  one  of  farewell  1 " 

''It  isn't  farewell  is  it,  Charlie!    Ifcir  that  yam 


A  DEOLARATION.  Wi 

know  it  cannot  be,  you  will  not  think  so  mnch  aboat  it 
•fter  A  little." 

**  Berrie,  do  you  know  what  love  m  !  '^  smiling  bit* 
terly. 

"  Does  any  one  ? "  oonf  usedly. 

"  Yes,  those  who  have  felt  it." 

"You  cannot  deune  it  I  'I  love,  you  lore,  they 
love  1 '  that  is  the  most  you  can  say.  And  Charlie,  I 
expect  some  young  lady  friends  from  Boston,  in  a 
week  or  two;  I  am  sure  yon  would  like  them,  and 
you  will  come  up,  the  same  as  before  I  Let  ni  be 
friends,  at  least,  Charlie." 

"  I  will  come  up  if  I  can  trust  myself,  but  do  not 
expect  it  just  yet.  Good-by,  Berrie  I "  and  notwith- 
standing  the  soiled  palm,  he  pressed  his  Upa  to  the 
little  hand  he  held. 

"  Good-by,  Charlie,  God  bless  and  comfort  you !  I 
am  so  sorry ;  I  like  you  so  dearly  as  a  friend." 

He  smiled,  very  faintly  and  sadly,  however,  and  a 
moment  later  the  door  closed  behind  him,  and  she  waa 
alone. 

The  brightness  had  gone  out  of  her  day,  and  a  few 
warm  tears  welled  over  her  brimming  eyes,  as  she  real 
ized  what  pain  she  had  been  obliged  to  inflict  on  one 
who  loved  her  so  well,  and  whom  she  esteemed  so 
highly  as  a  friend.  She  could  not  forgive  herself  for 
tempting  the  avowal  by  the  mischievous  conversation 
she  had  allowed  herself  to  drift  into,  but  was  consoled 
at  last,  or  endeavored  to  be,  by  the  thought  that  it  must 
have  come  some  time,  and  that  it  was  better  then  than 
later. 


158  ^  LECLARATJOIf. 

For  a  few  miuutes  she  tried  to  perenAde  henelf  thai 
the  might  be  happj  with  .biin;  happier,  perhaps,  than 
in  waiting  &o  long  for  what  might,  after  all,  never 
oome  to  her  •  that  in  his  love  she  might  forget,  after  a 
time,  the  tender  face  of  her  absent  friend.  But  in  her 
ears  rang  his  "  Be  true  to  rae,  Berrie,  and  I  shall  hope 
for  a  happy  coming  home  bj-and-by  1 "  She  reflected 
on  the  disappointments  he  had  hitherto  borne,  hii 
hardly- won  trust  in  her,  his  hopes  for  the  fntm-e,  and 
op  rose  the  mighty  swellings  of  her  love  for  him,  re- 
buking her  for  her  moment's  faithlessness,  though  only 
in  thought. 

No  t  it  must  be  he,  or  none !  Charlie  was  a  dear, 
dear  friend,  but  Eugene  was  the  one  love  of  her  life ; 
and  let  the  future  bring  what  it  might,  ahe  to^%Ud  be 
tra»  to  him  and  to  herself. 


^S 


CHAPTER 

LETTEBS — AN   ASBIYAJm 

<*  harting  ono«,  and  loring  eT«r, 
It  ia  sad  to  watch  for  yean 

For  the  light  whose  fitful  ihiniBf 
Hakes  a  rainbow  of  our  tears.** 


um. 


"  Toa  are  Terj  welcome  to  onr  honso ; 
It  most  appear  in  other  wajs  than  words.** 

LETTER  for  you,  Berrie,  and  one  for  Belle  M 
a  matter  of  conree ;  two  for  me,  a  paper  from 
Charlie,  and  that  is  all,"  said  Mr.  Burton,  difr 
tributing  the  morning  mail,  which  had  just  come  in, 
while  they  were  still  at  table. 

It  was  early  in  the  last  week  of  July,  and  as  Berrie 
opened  hers,  she  exclaimed  :  "  Helen  is  in  Boston,  and 
she  and  Maud  will  be  here  on  the  evening  train  to-day;" 
adding,  as  she  folded  up  her  letter  and  turned  to  her 
water :  "  What  does  Mr.  Wright  say,  Belle  ?  fenything 
•pecial  ? " 

**  No  1 "  was  the  quiet  reply.  "  He  thinks  he  shall  be 
on  in  a  week  or  two,  for  a  short  vacation^  he  saTi." 


^$0  LBTTEB8-  -Alf  ARRIVAL. 

Berrie  thought,  with  a  little  pang  of  mingled  envy 
and  regret,  of  the  one  who  had  accompanied  him  on 
■uch  a  trip  the  previous  year, — one  little  year,  which 
had  made  such  a  change  in  her  heart  and  life, — cf  one 
then  entirely  unknown  to  her,  and  now  so  very,  very 
dear.  Nearly  three  months  had  elapsed  since  the  r« 
ceipt  of  his  one  precious  letter,  and  she  had  been  foi 
some  time  looking  and  longing  for  another.  She  had 
not  replied  to  the  last,  as  he  had  not  requested,  oi 
Beemed  to  expect  her  to  do  so,  and  besides,  either  inad- 
vertently or  intentionally,  had  omitted  to  send  her  any 
address.  She  thought  it  probable  that  Mr.  Wright  had 
it,  but  she  was  too  proud  to  ask  him  for  it,  or  let  him 
know  that  she  was  ignorant  of  it  He  had  kindly  of- 
fered to  take  charge  of  any  "  mysterious  packet  which 
she  desired  to  have  conveyed  across  the  ocean,"  but  she 
had  thanked  him  confusedly,  and  assured  him  she 
could  herself  dispose  of  any  such  in  Providence,  as  she 
was  often  there ;  however,  she  had  none  at  present,  and 
did  not  expect  to  have.  He  thought  it  rather  singular 
she  should  not  write  to  her  friend,  and  concluded  she 
spoke  in  that  way,  as  she  was  too  shy  to  own  to  the  con- 
trary. 

The  thoughts  of  him  which  Belle's  news  had  provoked 
»ent  her  to  her  room  with  a  little  sad  regret  in  het 
heart,  to  glance  once  more  over  the  pages  of  her  ont 
dear  letter,  and  gaze  on  the  "  pictured  likeneas  of  h«r 
love,"  in  the  jewelled  ring  he  had  given  her.  How  it 
brought  back  their  last  happy  moments  together,  when 
he  had  been  so  tender  and  loving,  and,  though  the  bittflf 
parting  wm  to  near  at  hand,  filled  her  heart  with  nek 


KETlERf^AN  ARRIVAL,  Ml 

and  perfect  happiness  "  Oh  my  love  I  *  she 
murmured,  as  she  gazed  on  the  noble  face,  "  if  I  could 
only  see  yon  once  more ! "  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears  of  longing,  aLd  her  heart  throbbed  with  «uch  a 
heavy  ache,  as  she  thought  of  the  long,  long  years 
which  still  stretched  between  her  desire  and  its  fulfil- 
ment 

Yery  bitter  are  these  long  separations  from  our  loved 
ones  I  Very  hard  to  bear,  this  heart-breaking  longing 
for  the  sweets  of  reciprocal  love — the  presence,  words, 
and  caresses  of  one  who  is  all  the  world  to  us.  But 
like  many  another  poor,  lonely  woman,  she  was  obliged 
to  endure  it  silently,  and  as  patiently  as  might  be. 

All  day  long  her  thoughts  were  full  of  him,  while 
she  dusted,  arranged,  and  adorned  with  her  favorite 
flowers  parloi*8  and  guest-chamber  ;  and  when  she  was 
dressing  for  the  evening,  slie  paused  again  before  the 
locked  drawer,  for  one  more  peep  at  the  pictured  face 
of  her  dear  one. 

Her  toilet  was  nearly  completed,  and  as  the  tiny 
spring  clicked  in  closing,  she  slipped  the  ring  on  her 
finger,  and  holding  it  off  to  look  on  it  lovingly,  noting 
its  beauty  and  brilliancy,  she  murmured  to  herself,  "  I 
have  half  a  mind  to  wear  it,  and  see  what  they  will  all 
say  about  it.  It  will  excite  any  quantity  of  questions, 
and  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  brave  enough  to  face 
them  or  not.  Well  [  will  wear  it  until  I  finish  dress- 
ing, at  all  events." 

She  went  to  the  mirror  to  put  on  the  finishing 
touches  to  her  pretty  dress,  and  as  she  fastened  her  hair 
and  collar  with  rose-colored  ribbons,  she  uoted  with  a 


MS  LETl'ERS^Ay  ARRIVAL. 

girliih  Bstisfaction — little  ^  ehc  cared  in  reftlitj  faff 
jewelft— the  beauty  and  glitter  of  the  precious  stones  on 
her  finger.  At  length  slie  decided  to  weai  it;  flh« 
meant  to  do  so,  some  time,  and  as  well  now  as  ever,  and 
then  the  quizzing  would  be  over. 

She  was  going  to  the  depot  to  meet  her  friends,  and 
more  for  the  use  than  ornament,  she  added  the  watch  and 
chain  which  her  father  had  given  her  on  her  return 
from  school  a  year  ago.  She  had  sent  for  a  carriage, 
and  was  momently  expecting  it,  and,  anxious  to  have 
the  ring  ordeal  over  before  her  friends  should  arrive, 
ehe  hastened  downstairs  to  wait  for  it. 

She  had  not  been  long  in  the  room  where  her  mother 
and  sister  were  sitting,  before  Belle  exclaimed,  **  Why, 
Berrie,  what  have  you  got  on  your  hand  ? " 

"Why  where,  Belle?  I  don't  see  anything,**  re^ 
turned  the  little  actress,  as  she  looked  them  over  in- 
tently in  seeming  elarra,  pretending  to  think  there  waa 
something  terrible  there. 

Belle  laughed.  "  Why,  on  your  finger,  goosey  I  How 
came  you  by  such  a  pretty  ring  ? " 

"  Oh,  that  I  "  in  a  tone  of  affected  relief.  "  Did  I 
never  show  it  you.  Belle  ? " 

"Of  course  you  did  not  I  Where  did  yon  get  it, 
pray  ? "  coming  closer  to  examine  it. 

"  I  didn't  steal  it,"  archly. 

"  I  presume  not,  nor  buy  it  either.** 

**  Don't  be  too  sure  about  the  latter.  I  sayed  up  % 
lot  of  money  when  1  was  at  school." 

*'Not  to  bny  diamond  rings,  though,  I  warrant  t* 
kMghing. 


lbitehs-ah  arrival.  sm 

"Not  I,  indeed!  Didn't  you  know  that  onr  >f  my 
numerous  admirers  gave  it  to  me  ?  Let's  see  I  which 
one  was  it?  "  musingly. 

"  Of  course  you  do  not  know  I " 

"  Of  course  not,  no  I  But,  seriously,  have  you  nerer 
teen  it  before  ?  I  have  bad  it  a  long  time." 

"  How  should  I  see  it,  since  yeu  never  wear  it,  ot 
leave  it  around  ?     Did  Ned  Lester  give  it  to  you  ? " 

"  I  don't  like  to  tell !  "  blushing,  with  drooping  head 
and  finger  in  her  mouth,  with  affected  bashfulness. 

"  Well,  it's  elegant  I  Ma,  do  you  know  anything 
about  this  mysterious  ring  ? " 

"  No  more  than  yourself.  Belle,"  her  mother  returned 
smiling. 

"  Oh,  there's  the  carriage ;  good-by  1 "  and  glad  to  ei 
cape  further  questioning,  she  ran  off. 

"  Well,  I  am  thankful  that  is  over  1 "  she  thought 
"  Fortunately,  Belle  never  suspected  the  source  fronr 
which  it  came.  I  expected  she  would  at  once.  Ned 
Lester  1 "  laughing.  "  Well,  I  only  hope  she  won't 
ask  Maud,  and  she  may  think  that  as  long  as  she 
Hkes." 

A  few  minutes'  drive  brought  her  to  the  depot,  and 
her  gay  greeting  to  her  friends,  who  shortly  arrived, 
was  met  with  a  quiet  kiss  and — "  I  am  ever  so  glad  to 
see  you,  Berrie  I  "  from  Maud,  and  a  laughing  "  WeU^ 
well  1  Miss  Burton,  do  I  behold  you  ?  I  am  tired  to 
death,  and  hope  you  are  glad  enough  to  see  me  to  pay 
for  the  trouble  of  coming!  "  from  Helen. 

"  She's  the  same  Helen,  isn't  she,  Maud  ?  I'll  leave 
yoB  to  gueas  whether  I  am  glad  to  see  you ;  but  if  yo^ 


M4  trmsBs-Air  iSJuvAL. 

talk  like  yonrself ,  yon  don't  look  like  it ;  how  thin  ma4 
p«le  you  are  I  what  have  you  been  doing  with  youi>» 
■©Iff" 

"  *  Teaching  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot/  and  ex- 
pending all  my  own  ammunition  in  the  attempt." 

"  I  should  judge  so  1  well,  we  will  try  and  furnish 
you  with  a  fresh  supply  before  you  go  back.  But 
give  me  your  checks,  girls,  and  I  will  have  you  homo 
in  no  time." 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Berrie  1  Can  I  render  you 
any  assistance  1 " 

The  blood  rushed  to  brow  and  cheek,  as  ehe  turned 
at  the  voice  of  her  old  friend  Charlie,  whom  she 
had  not  seen  since  their  momentous  interview,  more 
than  two  weeks  ago.  She  had  learned  accidentally 
that  he  was  away,  and  was  not  aware  that  he  had  re- 
turned. 

"  Why,  Charlie,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  haven't  seen  yon 
in  ever  so  long !  "  extending  her  hand.  "  Allow  me  to 
present  my  friends.  Mr.  Anderson,  Miss  Harrington^ 
Miss  Lester." 

"  My  fellow-travellers,  I  presume  1 "  smiling,  as  he 
acknowledged  the  rather  informal  introduction. 

''  Why  1  have  you  just  returned,  Charlie  i " 

"  Yes.     What  can  I  do  for  you,  Berrie  ? " 

"  Oh,  if  you  will  please  take  charge  of  these  checks  1 
I  have  a  carriage  outside. ' 

He  placed  the  young  ladies  in  the  carriage,  then 
went  off  in  search  of  the  baggage. 

"  There's  a  ^  gallant  knight '  for  you,  Helen  1 "  said 
Berrie,  laughing. 


LBTlEHa—AJf  ABRIYAJU 

"  TLu  he  got  plenty  of  money  1 " 

"That's  the  only  qualification  Helen  deiirti," 
laughed  Mand. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  call  a  pUnty  1  He  hM  • 
good  business,  and  never  wants,  I  guess.  He  ia  a  &d» 
man,  and  would  make  you  happy,  Helen." 

"  Perhaps  he  might  decline  the  honor ;  and  possibly 
he  is  spoken  for  already." 

"  I  think  not,"  returned  Berrie,  provoked  to  know 
she  was  blushing,  and  that  the  girls  would  fancy  from 
her  confusion,  that  he  was  more  to  her  than  he  was. 
She  always  did  blush  when  she  most  desired  not  to, 
and  the  consciousness  of  doing  so  only  made  the  mat- 
ter worse. 

"  Ahem  1 "  said  Helen  mischievously, "  perhaps  not! " 

His  immediate  return  ended  the  conversation,  to 
Berrie's  relief. 

"  Won't  you  come  up  with  us,  Charlie ! "  she  asked, 
as  he  fihnt  the  door. 

"  Thank  you,  Berrie,  not  to-night ;  Dut  I  will  try 
and  come  soon,"  and  lifting  his  hat  he  turned  away. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  looking  so  miserable,  Helen ; 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  nothing  special  I  I  haven't  been  well  since  I 
began  teaching.     It  tears  my  nerves  all  to  piecea.** 

"  Why  don't  you  give  it  up,  then  ? " 

Helen  laughed  bitterly.  "  Because  I  dan't  car©  to 
take  an  apartment  at  Mount  Auburn,  just  yet*' 

"  Bat  you  may  do  so,  if  you  don't  stop." 

"  Well,  I'll  die  decently,  then,  and  not  tturre  to 
death  and  be  bnried  in  a  potter's-field." 
IS 


M6  LSTTSSS-AN  ARRIVAL, 

**  I  j^Mf  it  ig  not  quite  m  bad  as  that** 

"  That  is  becauBe  you  do  not  know." 

"  I  guess  it  isn't  either  1 "  said  Maud.  «  Hela  k 
dred  and  cross  to-night,  aren't  you,  Queenie  !  " 

"  1  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  were  I  "  with  a  shmg  of  hcf 
ihoulders. 

"  Well,  we  are  nearly  home  now,  and  you  shall  jxurt 
io  as  you  like  for  the  next  few  weeks." 

"  What  a  luxury  !  I  shall  appreciate  it,  I  assure  you, 
i  tell  you,  girls,  I  often  think  of  the  piece  Maud  read 
exhibition-day ;  and  like  the  gleaner,  *  I  grow  so  weary, 
weary,  carrying  home  the  sheareal'  Theie  verMi 
particularly  haunt  me : 

** '  I  dream  of  courts  and  castled. 

Gateways  of  gold  and  pearls, 
Laurel  wreaths  prondl  j  restini^ 

On  the  brow  of  the  peasant  gizL 
Life  is  so  very  weary 

Here  on  these  sommex  erea, 
I  g^w  BO  weary,  weary, 

Carrying  home  the  sheaves. 

"  •  Thoughts  which  are  bright,  yet  pAJifat, 

Struggle  within  my  breast. 
Life  is  both  sweet  and  banefol, 

I  am  not  like  the  rest. 
Would  I  could  voord  my  longingt, 

Bunder  this  weary  chain. 
Fly  from  this  quiet  valley, 

These  sheaves  of  golden  gnia. 
Life  is  so  very  dreary 

Here  on  these  summer  evoa, 
I  grow  so  weary,  weary, 

OwoTinf  home  the  iheavaa  I** 


LBTTEJm    AN  ARIUVAL.  Wl 

**  Bnt  do  you  never  think  of  the  next  vene,  Halcaf  * 
tiked  Maud,  quotinor  in  turn : 

** '  Maiden,  thou  art  not  lonelj  I 

Many  like  thee  there  are 
Stifling  their  aspirations, 

Still  with  their  souls  at  war. 
All  through  this  life's  great  harrert. 

Wander  a  sorrov?ing  train, 
Knowiag  full  well  their  miasioii. 

But  wearing  a  clogging  chain. 
Many  the  hearts  that  are  sayiiif 

This  quiet  summer  eve, 
O,  I  am  weary,  weary, 

Carrying  home  the  sheaTes.*  ** 

"  Yes,  I  think  of  that,  ako  I  "  with  a  bitter  btn^h, 
"  and  though  I  know  that  '  misery  loves  company  * 
generally,  it  is  no  consolation  to  me  that  others  are  at 
badly  or  even  worse  off  than  I  am." 

"You  should  think  sometimes  of  the  last  verse, 
Helen,"  said  Berrie,  as  the  carriage  tamed  into  her 
street,  "  and  remember  that 

"  '  God  hears  our  cry,  my  sister. 

He  will  gather  the  ripened  grain 
Up  in  His  broad  heaven-gamer, 
Where  life  will  be  free  front  pain.* " 

As  they  reached  Iiome,  Belle  came  running  out  tt 
the  carriage.  "  You  need  not  introduce  me,  Berrie,** 
she  said,  as  she  opened  the  door,  "  I  have  heard  so 
much  about  Maud  and  Helen,  that  I  know  them  al- 
ready ; "  and  she  kissed  both  of  the  girlB  as  she  a»' 
•iated  them  to  alight. 


LSTTSna-AN  ARRIVAL, 

*Ocane  upetairs,  girls,  and  washl"  said  Berrio,  M 
they  entered  the  house,  " and  never  mind  about  chann^ 
bi^  your  dresHes  to-n^'ght." 

*  No,"  said  Belle,  "  tea  is  all  ready." 

*  Where  do  you  -wish  the  trunks,  Miss  I "  inquired 
the  dr.ver. 

"  Oh,  Belle,  you  attend  to  them,  will  you,  please  t " 
and  she  conducted  her  friends  upstairs  to  the  tasteful 
guest-chamber,  which  she  had  taken  so  much  pains  in 
arranging. 

"  What  a  pretty  room  t  "  exclaimed  Maud,  as  they 
entered.  "  And  what  a  glorious  sunset  I "  as  she 
glanced  through  the  deep  west  window,  opened  nearly 
to  the  floor. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  can  endure  this  for  a  while,"  said 
Helen,  throwing  herself  into  a  low  rocker  that  stood 
cear  the  window. 

"  Never  mind  the  sunpet,"  she  added  to  Maud ;  "  do 
w^ash  while  I  rest,  plei^se." 

"  Oh,  how  is  Ned  ?  "  inquired  Berrie. 

"  He's  well,  and  sa-r.cy  as  ever  1  He  wished  me  to 
tell  you  he  should  run  down  for  a  few  days,  while  we 
were  here.  Thee  Icjk  out  for  being  teased  1 "  laugh- 
ing 

"  I  expect  so '  Don't  he  improve  any  ander  joof 
InJtion  f  '* 

'^  I  am  a£r%id  ciot  much." 


CHAPTER  XXL 

■OMK  irON8KN8B — EJTCUBSIONS  "  U>  LXBTTUIL.'' 
**  We  know  runii  than  we  tell  1 " 

**  A  klM  of  ohai^ty  them  Mkeet  not ; 
A  IdM  of  lore  to  th'>e  I  oMsnot  giro  1 " 

J.  0.  HxTweoB. 

ELL,  well,  girls  1  here  are  three  of  yoti  witti 
vj(^  jewelled  rings  on  joiu*  fore-fingers.  And  yon 
>^^  too,  Berrie,  that  neve*  ear^A  tor  such  things ! 
I  should  like  to  know  what  it  all  means.  Come  ta 
confession,  girls  1 "  and  the  speakci,  Helen  Harrington 
drew  herself  up  gravely. 

It  was  a  dull,  cloudy  mornmg,  and  tber  hardly  knew 
what  to  do  with  themselves,  and  in  lieu  of  anything 
else,  talked  any  quantity  of  nonsense,  aa  girla  will  do 
when  they  are  together. 

"Be  merciful,  Queenie,  and  spare  oilt  blniheil* 
said  Belle,  laughing. 

"'The  quality  of  mercy'  is  strained-out  and  goni^ 
Mr.  Shakspeare  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  I 
hava  no  mercy.    Come,  kneel  before  ma  and  maki 


S70  BZOUmiONS  ''AD  UBITLM." 

oonfeasion.     Isabel  I  " — sternly,  and   pointing    to   dM 
floor  at  her  feet. 

"  Isabel "  obeyed  the  gesture,  and  dropping  on  her 
knees  before  her  confessor,  hid  her  face  in  her  luuidi. 

"  Will  not  your  Royal  Highness  permit  na  to  con 
fees  for  another,  instead  of  ourselves  1 " 

"  Mark  the  way  of  the  world  I  How  mnch  easier  it 
1b  to  acknowledge  others'  faults  or  error*  than  our 
own  1    Confess,  fair  penitent." 

*^  I  have  nothing  to  confess,  may  it  please  your  Higb» 
nessl" 

'^What  means  this  gewgaw  that  sparklet  on  thi 
fore-finger  of  your  left  hand  ?  '* 

"  It  means — it  means — that  it  won't  fit  any  other  I " 

"  It  means — it  means — a  wedding  next  fall,"  laughed 
Berrie.  "  Come,  Helen,  let  me  confess  for  the  lot  1 "  and 
she  dropped  on  her  knees  by  her  sister's  side,  saying : 
"  Arise,  fair  penitent,  and  leave  your  cause  with  me  ** 

"  Well,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself  % " 

**  Nothing  for  myself,  anything  you  like  for  my 
companions." 

"  You  have  explained  the  meaning  of  Belle's  jewel ; 
Maud's  comes  next  in  order." 

"  Maud  \  oh,  her's  means  that  she  will  be  mj  aiiter 
one  of  these  fine  days." 

«  And  yours  ? " 

"  Mine  is  without  a  meaning !  rayBterious  in  origin, 
and  mysterious  in  significance  I  Not  a  sohtaire,  you 
perceive,  fair  queen." 

"  I  perceive  more  than  is  apparent  1  Your  b"  oihei 
•re  more  eloquent  than  your  ring." 


EXCURSIONS  ^'AD  lIBimC^  J71 

**One  means  as  much  as  the  other — nothing  I"  she 
arofle  from  her  knees  and  sat  down.  "  Come,  girli,  it  ii 
a  year  since  we  left  Bchool,  we  have  seen  a  year  of 
woman-life,  and  ought  to  have  some  plans  for  the  fu- 
ture. Suppose  we  mark  out  our  prospective  life  fot 
five  years  to  come,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  com- 
pare notes  as  to  the  fulfilment  of  our  hopes." 

"  Very  well  1 "  answered  Helen.  "  Belle,  you  are 
the  oldest,  begin  I " 

"  *  Man  proposes,  and  God  disposes  1  * "  Belle  re- 
turned. *'  I  anticipate  nothing  more  than  falls  to  the 
average  lot  of  woman ;  a  happy  home,  and  a  bmiy  life, 
working  for  those  I  love." 

"Maud  I" 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  any  diitinct  plant. 
Charlie  and  I  expect  to  be  married  in  about  a  year — " 
with  many  blushes — "  I  hope  to  be  happy,  useful,  and 
beloved." 

"  As  I  do  not  doubt  you  will,  sweet  sister,"  whispered 
Berrie. 

"Now,  Berriel" 

"  I  believe  you  are  the  oldest,  Helen  1 " 

"  That  does  not  matter !  proceed,  and  I  will  follow.'' 

"  My  plans  depend  so  much  on  others,  that  I  can  say 
nothing  definite.  I  anticipate  a  few  years  of  weary 
waiting,  and  then — hope's  fruition,  or  disappointment. 
And  you,  Helen  I  " 

"  Oh,  I  expect  to  waste  my  sweetness  *  on  bare-toot- 
ed, tow-headed  urchms,  and  wake  up  acme  morning  to 
find  myself  famous." 

"  Ma  says,  *  come  to  dinner,  girls  t ' "  interpoied  Hafr> 


379  MXOfTBSIONS  "AD  LIBITUM.'' 

tie,  entering  the  room  at  that  moment ;  and  glad  of  Any* 
thing  for  a  change,  her  sun  mons  was  promptly  obeyed. 

About  two  weeks  had  elapsed  since  their  arrival,  and 
the  time  had  passed  very  pleasantly  to  them  all,  in  en- 
joying the  walks  and  drives  of  which  the  suburb*  of 
Bristol  boast  so  many  beautiful  ones,  in  various  pUv 
nics  and  excursions,  to  say  nothing  of  informal  evening 
gatherings,  which  had  invariably  been  so  very  pleas- 
ant. 

Charlie  Anderson  had  been  very  attentive,  and  rarely 
oetrayed  the  pain  and  passion  which  had  stolen  so  much 
of  the  sweetness  from  his  life,  and  sobered  a  little  the 
former  gayety  of  his  manner.  Once  when  Berrie  wa» 
at  the  piano,  and  the  others  were  all  standing  around 
her,  Helen  had  said,  apropos  to  a  previous  remark :  "  Oh, 
a  woman*s  *  no '  always  means  '  yes  1 ' " 

"Is  that  a  fact?"  he  asked  quickly,  with  such  a 
changed  and  eloquent  face,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the  girl 
at  whose  back  he  was  standing. 

"  Proverbially  true,  Mr.  Anderson  I "  was  the  laugh- 
ing answer. 

"  Then  I  am  all  right,''  he  returned,  more  earnestly 
than  playfully. 

Helen  had  noticed  his  changing  face,  and  was  per- 
suaded of  what  she  had  suspected  all  along ;  that  Ber- 
rie  had  refused  him,  and  that  he  loved  her  madly  stilL 
But  he  was  generally  on  his  guard,  although  the  girl'i 
gentle,  sympathetic  manner,  Bince  the  fatal  rna-nin^ 
which  had  dashed  his  hopes  to  the  ground,  was  'nuch 
harder  to  endure  than  coldness  or  hauteur  woul^  itATf 
been. 


EXOUmiONB  ''AD  LIBITUM.^  875 

The  following  week  Ned  Lester,  Charlie  Burton,  and 
Bir.  Wright  were  to  be  there,  and  the  girls — Maud  and 
Helen — were  to  return  with  them,  Berrie  and  Belle  ao- 
companjing  them,  to  make  the  purchases  which  the 
important  event  to  occur  in  the  Fall  rendered  neoee> 

The  next  week  came,  and  with  it  the  expected  gue«tB ; 
and  there  was  certainly  no  gayer  house  in  that  beauti- 
ful town  for  some  davs  to  come  than  that  of  the  Bur- 
tons.  Helen's  health  had  wonderfully  improved,  thanks 
to  the  leisure,  gay  company,  and  life-giving  breeze, 
freshly  perfumed  by  the  salt  breath  of  the  Bay,  and 
with  returning  health  had  come  her  old  bloom  and 
gayety,  and  she  was  ever  the  life  of  the  party.  The 
gentlemen's  arrival  was  but  the  signal  for  iscreased 
pleasure,  and  many  were  the  pleasant  drives,  picnics, 
sails,  and  other  excursions  which  they  enjoyed  during 
their  stay. 

Climbing  the  steep  hills  to  reach  the  new  cemetery, 
lingering  with  awed  hearts  among  the  beautiful  trees 
of  the  silent  city,  enjoying  the  view  which  its  altitude 
commanded,  filled  pleasantly  and  profitably  one  beauti- 
ful afternoon.  A  drive  to  Mount  Hope,  and  brief  rest- 
ing in  "  King  Philip's  Chair,"  passed  away  another.  A 
walk  through  Constitution  street,  far  out  into  the  silent 
country,  occupied  one  golden  morning,  and  filled  their 
hearts  with  recolle7<stions  of  a  scene,  than  which  no 
fairer  had  their  eyes  ever  beheld.  A  drive  through 
the  southern  portion  of  the  town  to  "  the  ferry,'*  and 
past  the  elegant  residences  in  the  suburbs,  gaily  whirled 
away  the  time  of  one  bree^  afternoon.    A  lail  or  torn 


J74  EXGUItBTOm  '  AD  UBITUlir 

on  the  bine  waters  of  the  be  antifnl  bay  filled  more  tliM 
one  glorious  moon-lit  evening,  and  other  annifleinenti^ 
too  nnmerous  to  mention,  rendered  every  hoar  of  theif 
•tay  a  pleasure  long  to  be  remembered- 

The  excursion  to  Newport  which  had  proved  fo  con- 
trary the  previous  year,  was  again  attempted,  and  thii 
time  successfully  accomplished.  The  day  had  been 
perfect,  the  sail  to  and  from  delightfol,  the  Btay  in 
Newport  exceedingly  pleasant,  and  the  company  nearly 
the  same  as  on  the  preceding  occasion. 

But  to  Berrie,  there  was  a  decided  difference.  On« 
who  had  made  her  day  a  golden  one  before,  was  far 
away ;  and  though  she  could  not  choose  bnt  be  lively 
with  Ned  Lester  for  her  escort,  yet  every  moment  was 
filled  with  recollections  of,  and  longings  for  the  absent 
one,  and  she  was  really  glad  when  she  stood  once  more 
upon  the  steps  of  her  own  home,  and  knew  that  the 
mnch  talked  of  excursion  was  among  the  things  of  the 
past. 

Jennie  Wardell,  now  Mrs.  Malvern,  had  been  in  the 
company,  and  suspecting  more  of  the  relations  between 
Mr.  Adair  and  Berrie  than  she  had  been  successful  in 
her  effcrts  to  confirm,  and  remembering  the  events  of 
the  former  excursion,  she  could  not  resist  alluding  to 
It,  in  order  to  tease  and  annoy  Berrie,  if  it  were  posti- 
^le  to  do  so. 

'  Berrie,  do  you  remember  who  was  with  ns  a  year 
ago,  when  we  attempted  to  visit  Newport,  and  bad  to 
take  np  with  Rocky  Point  ?  I  wonder  where  Mr.  Adaii 
is  now ;  do  you  know,  Berrie  ? "  she  had  asked  soon  after 
they  started  on  their  homeward  passage,  and  while 


MIOUBBIONB  "  AD  LIBITUM.*  fTI 

tfiere  wm  Btill  light  enough  to  note  ever j  change  cf  tht 
lovelj  face. 

The  company  were  all  in  a  group,  and  Berrie,  knowixig 
well  that  more  than  one  pair  of  curious  eyes  were  spon 
her,  felt  more  than  ever  provoked  to  feel  the  rush  ol 
color  from  heart  to  cheek,  at  mention  of  the  naiiM 
which  had  been  in  all  her  thoughts  through  every  ho»yr 
in  the  day. 

She  wished  Mrs.  Malvern  anywhere  else  bpt  thfve, 
but  answered  calmly  and  haughtily  :  "  I  do  not,  indeed  t 
how  should  I  ?  He  went  to  Europe,  I  believe,  did  ha 
not,  Mr.  Wright?" 

«  Yes,  last  October  1 "  he  returned.  "  Doe«n't  New- 
port  look  lovely  at  this  distance  ? "  kindly  attempting 
to  change  the  conversation,  knowing  well  how  embar* 
rassing  it  was  to  Berrie. 

But  Mrs.  Malvern  was  not  so  easily  silenced.  She 
laughed  provokingly,  and  said  to  Ned :  "  Mr.  Leeter, 
you  took  better  care  of  Berrie  to-day  than  her  escort 
did  last  year.  She  and  Mr.  Adair  wandered  off  to- 
gether over  the  rocks,  and  she  fell  and  sprained  her 
ankle  so  badly  it  was  as  much  as  ever  that  she  ooold 
get  home." 

"Indeed!"  he  returned  coolly.  *' Perhaps  that 
wasn't  her  escort's  fault.'* 

"  Perhaps  not !  "  with  her  provoking  Isrgh.  "  But 
he  felt  very  badly  about  it,  and  did  his  best  to  oonsols 
her  for  it,  didn't  he,  Ber  ie  ?  " 

"  JVii  say  that  he  did ;  I  io  not  wish  to  diipat* 
your  word,  and  you  seem  to  know  more  aboat  it  than 
any  oxm  elsa.'^ 


ITS  BZCURSIOyS  ''AD  LIBITUM^' 

**  OL,  I  only  judge  from  observation  1"  with  a  ihriig 
of  her  ttboulders. 

**  People  are  mistaken  ll  their  judgment  BometiBieii 
VLxu  Malvern,'*  Mr.  Wright  remarked. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Malvern  has  had  so  much  experience  in 
Bnoh  matters,  she  is  sure  to  be  right.  I  would  not  d^ 
Btroy  her  self-esteem  for  anything,"  said  Berrie,  soomr 
fully. 

The  lady  having  had  more  than  one  encounter  with 
Berrie,  in  which  she  had  invariably  been  worstedi 
thought  it  best  to  let  the  subject  drop,  and  accordingly 
changed  the  conversation. 

Berrie  was  more  vexed  than  she  cared  to  show,  and 
she  resolved  to  do  her  best  to  drop  Mrs.  Malvern  from 
her  list  of  acquaintances. 

Ned's  curiosity  was  excited,  and  at  the  first  opportu- 
nity he  asked  her  abruptly  who  Mr.  Adair  was. 

"  Oh,  a  gentleman  that  spent  the  summer  here  last 
year ;  a  friend  of  Mr.  Wright's,"  she  answered  aa  care* 
lessly  as  she  could. 

"  And  of  yours  % "  mischievously. 

"  An  acquaintance,  yes  I " 

"  Only  an  acquaintance,  eh  ?  What  sort  of  a  looking 
fellow  was  he  ?     I  am  desperately  jealous,  Berrie." 

Berrie  would  fain  have  let  the  matter  drop,  but  Ned 
was  not  inclined  to  do  eo,  therefore  she  thought  ah* 
would  tease  him  a  little,  since  he  was  so  fond  of  teas- 
ing her,  so  she  answered :  "  A  very  handsome  man, 
Ned,  and  as  fascinating  as  fine  looking.  One  of  youi 
bom  aristocratSj  you  know,  betraying  it  in  bearing, 
ner  and  tone." 


MlOVRaiom  "  At  IIBITUM*  977 

Ned  ground  his  teeth  savagely.  "  A.nd  what  j«  he  to 
yon,  Berne  ?  '*  catching  her  hand. 

«  To  me  ?    Let  go  my  hind,  Ned  1    Oh,  I  told  yo«, 
•n  ftcqnaintance." 
.     «  Nothing  more  ?  " 

**  Well,  a  friend,  if  you  like  !  "  bluBhing. 

"Nothing  more?" 

"  I  don't  answer  impertinent  questions,  Ned  I "  langh 
ing.     "  Let  go  my  hand  1 " 

"  Couldn't,  Berne  I  It's  quite  a  nice  little  hand,  and 
this  is  a  nice  little  ring,  by  Jove  1  "  Did  that  feKow, 
Adair,  give  it  you  ? " 

"  You  forget  what  I  told  you  !  ** 

«What?'» 

"  That  I  never  answer  impertinent  questioiiB." 

"  Well,  you  didn't  tell  me  what  sort  of  a  lookiiig 
fellow  he  was.     Is  that  impertinent,  pray  I  " 

"  Oh,  no  1 "  laughing.  "  Why,  yes,  I  did  tell  you  I 
iandsome,  distinguished-looking,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"  Well,  is  he  black  or  white,  yellow,  red,  or  what  1  ** 

"  Oh,  he  is  light — by  the  way,  you  have  seen  him 
yourself  1  You  remember  the  man  we  saw  at  Cope- 
land'i  the  night  before  I  came  home  last  Summer,  and 
again  at  the  depot  the  day  I  left  ?" 

"  Confound  it !  not  that  impudent  fellow  ? " 

"  That  gentleman,  yes  1  He  came  down  on  the  same 
train" — wickedly — "assisted  me  at  the  junction,  called 
here  the  same  evening,  and  I  was  introduced  to  him," 

"  Bomantic,  by  Jove  1  and  what  about  the  tpnuued 
Miklel'' 


ITS  EXCURSIONS  ''AD  UBITUTL* 

"  NothiDg,  only  1  sprained  it  1 " 

"  Through  your  c  wn  fault  I " 

"  Of  course  1  whose  else  do  you  suppote  f  ^ 

"  Berrie,  I'll  not  have  any  more  such  doingt  1  ihiji 
the  man  at  once !  " 

"Couldn't I  He  shipped  himself  last  October;  fini 
for  England,  then  the  Continent." 

"For  how  long?" 

"  An  absence  ?  oh,  four  or  five  years,  I  prcsuma.** 

«  And  what  then  ?  " 

"What  when?" 

"  Why,  when  he  returns." 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  A  wedding  with  some  cm%^ 
possibly,"  mischievously. 

"  And  that  some  one  is  Berrie  Burton  1 " 

"  I  don't  answer  impertinent  questions,  you  remcm 
ber.  Come,  Ned,  I  think  you  have  quizzed  me  enough. 
Please  let  go  my  hand." 

For  reply  he  clasped  it  tighter,  and  attempted  to 
draw  her  nearer,  saying :  "  Well,  give  me  a  kiss  and 
tell  me  you  love  me,  Berrie,  ani  I'll  forgive  you." 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  do  no  such  thing  I "  she  laughed, 
accustomed  to  that  sort  of  thing  from  this  most  auda- 
cious young  gentleman. 

lie  bent  nearer,  attempting  to  take  what  she  refused, 
but  she  boxed  his  ears  soundly,  and  in  his  consternation 
succeeded  in  releasing  her  other  hand  from  his  clasp. 

"  Ned,  you  are  worse  than  ever  I  I  don't  see  as 
Maud  has  reformed  you  a  bit." 

"I  told  you  she  couldn't  while  you  were  aronnd, 
B«rrie.  You  shouldn't  have  such  tempting  lips  if  jo^ 


EXCURSIONS  ''AD  LIBITUM."  27» 

don't  wanfc  to  be  kissed.  They  always  look  m  if  thej 
were  just  ready  for  it." 

*  Yea  sancy  fellow  ;  it  is  no  such  thing  1 " 

"  It  is  too  I     Come,  kiss  me  once,  Berrie.'* 

"  Do  you  want  to  take  another  man's  kisa  from  my 
lips?"  laughing  archly,  and  looking  back  over  her 
shoulder,  as  she  ran  out  of  the  room. 

The  day  but  one  before  their  visit  was  ended,  they 
accompanied  a  picnic  party  on  an  excursion  to  Nayatt. 
Ned  escorted  Berrie,  as  a  matter  of  course.  Charlie 
Anderson  had  invited  her,  but  she  was  very  glad  that 
Ned  had  previously  engaged  her  company,  as  she  felt 
it  would  be  very  unwise  to  accept  of  his  escort  during 
the  hours  of  such  informal  intercourse  as  an  excursion 
like  that  would  entail.  Therefore  he  had  taken  Helen 
instead.  Charlie  Burton  took  possession  of  his  affianced 
bride,  Maud,  and  Mr.  Wright,  of  course,  escorted 
Belle.  As  usual,  they  were  a  very  gay  party,  and 
passed  an  exceedingly  pleasant  day. 

"Well,  this  ends  our  excursions  from  fair  old  Bristol, 
I  suppose  I "  remarked  Maud  on  the  homeward  ride. 
"  I  have  had  such  a  pleasant  visit,  Berrie ;  I  shall  al- 
ways remember  it." 

"  So  have  I ! "  added  Helen ;  "  and  I  am  much 
obliged  for  the  new  stock  of  ammunition  you  have  given 
me,  to  teach  shooting  with  again." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Queenie  ? "  said  Ned. 

Helen  la^ighed.  "  To  '  teach  the  young  idea  how  to 
shoot,'  you  know." 

"  Oh  1 "  said  Ned,  looking  rather  sold  ;  wberenpoi 
followed  a  general  laugh  at  his  expense. 


980  MXaUSaiONB  "AD  LIBITUJL* 

"  Bat  Berionsly,  Berne,"  Helen  oontinued,  "  I  hav4 
enjoyed  my  visit  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  Jiut  wait 
until  that  millionaire  comes  along,  and  then  Fll  jNty 
old  scores." 

"I'll  wait!"  laughing.  "I  am  very  glad  if  yoi 
have  had  a  pleasant  visit,  girls,  I  am  sure.  I  have  en- 
joyed it  exceedingly  for  my  part." 

The  next  evening  a  party  of  friends  gathered  at  Mr. 
Burton's  to  bid  Berrie's  guests  farewell,  and  on  the 
following  morning  the  three  gentlemen  and  four  ladiee 
took  the  first  train  for  Boston.  An  excursion  whioh, 
to  one  of  the  number,  proved  a  moet  importuit 


CHAPTER  XXTT. 


4V  inrsxncoTED  mseting — anothxb  nmonAl* 

**  OiTW  me  the  boon  of  love ; 
I  uk  no  more  for  fame ; 
Far  better  one  nnporchased  heart, 

Than  glory's  proudest  name. 
Wbj  wake  a  fever  in  the  blood. 

Or  damp  the  spirit  bow, 
To  gain  a  wreath  whose  leaves  ahall  wbt» 
▲bore  a  withered  brow." 

H.  T.  TnOKKBMAX. 

JOME,  girls,  this  is  such  a  beautiful  day,  do  let 
your  shopping  go,  and  let  us  visit  Mount  Au- 
burn to-day.     I  haven't  been  there  in  ever  so 
long,  and   I  think  it  would  be  real  pleasant,"  said 
Maud,  two  or  three  mornings  after  their  arrival  in 
BoAton,  as  they  arose  from  the  breakfast  table. 
"I  do,  too  I"  said  Ned. 

"  Who  said  anything  about  you,  sir  ? "  retorted  Ber- 
rie.  "  You  don't  suppose  we  would  have  you  along, 
do  you ! " 

**  Now,  Berrie,  yon  know  you  couldn't  get  aloDK 
without  me.' 


iSS  Ay  VNEXrECTED  MEETmO. 

"  I  know  I  Bhould  have  infinitely  more  peiioe  if  ] 
left  you  at  home." 

"I  ghonld  like  to  go,  for  one,  very  much,"  i«i4 
Ik-lle,  "  but  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  hurry  my  shopping 
along  as  fast  as  I  can,  and  get  home." 

"  Oh,  one  day,  more  or  less,  won't  make  much  dif 
ference." 

"  Well,  I'll  go,  if  the  rest  wish  it." 

"  The  rest  do,  as  a  matter  of  course,"  returned 
Helen ;  "  any  thing  for  excitement." 

"  May  I  go,  please.  Miss  Lester  ? "  said  Ned  plead- 
ingly. 

"  Oh  I  I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  let  you,"  returned 
his  sister ;  "  but  you  just  hurry  off,  and  go  down  town 
and  see  if  Charlie  and  Mr.  Wright  can  go,  and  meet 
us  at  Scollay's  building  at — let  me  see  I  can  we  get 
down  there  by  half -past-ten,  girls?" 

Berrie  looked  at  her  watch.  "  It  only  wants  a 
quarter  of  nine  now,  and  it  will  take  us — how  long ! 
three-quarters  to  go  down,  Maud  ?" 

"  About  that,  I  suppose,  yes  1 " 

"  That  leaves  us  an  hour  to  get  ready  in.  I  shovld 
think  we  might  be  off  in  that  time." 

"  I  should  too !  hurry  off.  Nod,  and  don't  keep  ni 
waiting  down  town,  for  it  is  a  loug  way  out  there." 

"  All  right  I     Adieu,  Strawberry  I  " 

"  Farewell,  Nettles  I  "  she  retorted,  and  kissing  hii 
hand  tc  her,  he  took  his  departure. 

The  girls  were  prompt  to  time  for  once,  and  after  a 
long  and  somewhat  tiresome  ride,  they  stood  within 
the  beautiful  grounds.    Having  previously  seen  tha 


AN  unexpecte:^  MEETINO.  38S 

prinoij'al  places  of  interest,  they  preferred  Lo  walk, 
and  fltnViled  leisurely  off  in  the  direction  of  the  tower. 
It  was  somewhere  about  two  o'clock  when  they  reached 
it  They  sat  down  in  the  shade  near  its  base  fof 
awhile,  then  attempted  the  ascent. 

Helen  was  considerably  in  advance  of  the  others,  and 
as  she  stepped  up  on  the  open  platform  at  the  top,  a 
familiar  figure  met  her  view,  which,  turning  at  sound 
of  her  step,  and  taken  off  his  guard,  uttered  inroluQ 
tarily  a  passionate  expression  of  endearment,  then 
added  deprecatingly,  before  she  could  speak,  "  For- 
give me.  Miss  Harrington,  you  took  me  completely  by 
surprise.     How  do  you  do  ?  "  extending  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  I  am  well,  thank  you,  Mr.  Carlisle.  I  did  not 
think  of  seeing  you  here.  Allow  me  to  present  my 
friends,"  as  the  remainder  of  the  party  made  their  ap- 
pearance on  the  scene. 

The  introductions  were  made,  and  they  all  turned  to 
look  at  the  matchless  view  spread  before.  The  silent 
city  of  the  dead  in  the  foregi-ound,  with  its  marble 
shafts  gleaming  through  the  dark  green  foliage  of  the 
trees,  and  its  picturesque  lakes,  looking  like  jetty  glass 
as  they  slept  in  tlie  shade  below;  the  smooth  green 
fields  which  intervened  between  the  cemetery  and  the 
distant  city  of  Cambridge,  conspicuous  in  which 
gleamed  the  golden  dome  of  the  observatory,  and  the 
gray  cluster  of  collegiate  buildings ;  the  great  tri- 
mountain  city  still  farther  in  the  background ;  at  the 
right  Brookline,  lirighton,  and  other  places  of  interest, 
and  the  golden  Augist  sun  touching  with  beautifying 
gleams  every  point  in  the  beautiful  landscape.    But 


Sg4  -^Ly  UNEXPECTED  MEEIFNO. 

there  were  two  of  the  party  that  gazed  od  the 
with  eyes  that  took  no  note  of  its  matchless  beautj  and 
yariety. 

To  Mr.  Carlisle  the  meeting  seemed  like  %  fiit». 
He  was  thinking  of  her  at  the  moment,  wishing  iIm 
was  there  to  see  the  lovely  view,  and  longing  for  oiM 
more  sight  of  the  prond,  haughty  face  so  dear  to  him, 
when,  hearing  a  step,  he  had  turned  mechanically,  only 
to  find  his  wishes  gratified,  and  see  before  him  the  one 
who  was  all  the  world  to  him. 

As  to  Helen,  his  involuntary,  unguarded  exclaimi^ 
tion  touched  her  exceedingly ;  and  the  quick  thrill  that 
ran  over  her  pulse  as  she  recognized  the  familiar  form, 
had  shown  her  how  untrue  she  had  been  to  him,  and 
her  own  heart,  in  rejecting  the  love  so  nobly  offered, 
how  thoroughly  his  afPection  for  her  was  reciprocated, 
and  placed  before  her  mind  in  its  true  light,  the  feeling 
or  principle  which  could  throw  away  the  love  of  such 
a  man  as  he  was  for  the  possible  chance  of  one  day 
winning  wealth  and  fame,  which  never  yet  have  satia^ 
fied  a  truly  womanly  heart. 

"  Fool  that  I  was  ! "  she  thought  to  herself.  "  Heri 
were  home,  comfort,  competence,  and  the  tendereat 
affection  offered  me  by  a  man  whom  I  can  esteeoi, 
honor,  and  even  love  with  ray  whole  heart,  and  for  ■ 
vision  I  have  thrust  them  all  aside,  leaving  a  certaintj^ 
of  nothing  but  a  life  of  drudgery  at  an  occupation  thsl 
Is  one  long  torture  to  me.  Yet  he  cares  for  me  still,  \ 
am  positive,  and  a  single  word  from  me  would  bri^g 
him  to  my  feet  again.    Shall  1  ipeak  it  t  ** 


AS  CTNEXPEOTED  MBSTISQ,  t8l 

**  Well,  Helen,  were  you  ever  silent  so  long  n  yoni 
life,  before  1 "  exclaimed  Berrie  at  last. 

"  Silent  1  was  I  ?  well,  I  was  pondering  a  weighty 
matter,  and  besides,  havsn't  I  suiScient  cause  for  silcnc* 
in  that  lovely  view  ?  Mr.  Carlisle,  how  aie  all  my  old 
friends  at  school  ?  1  think  I  must  come  back  in  the 
Fall,  if  there  is  a  vacancy.  I  do  not  think  I  can  en- 
a'lre  another  season  in  that  horribly  dull  country 
town,"  and  she  looked  at  him  with,  he  thought,  the 
sweetest  smile  he  had  ever  seen  on  her  lips. 

How  his  heart  bounded  with  hope  at  her  manner 
and  words  1  He  did  not  believe  her  to  be  a  coquette, 
and  certainly  nothing  could  be  m(ve  encouraging. 
But  he  answered  quietly :  "  Your  friends  are  all  well 
but  Aliss  Clare,  and  would  be  more  than  pleased  to 
welcome  you  back.  The  lady  procured  to  fill  your 
place  has  resigned  to  be  married" — smiling — ^"and 
the  position  is  vacap.t.  Of  course  it  is  yours  if  you 
desire." 

"Thanks I  I  think  I  must  accept  it!  But  what  is 
the  matter  with  Miss  Clare  %  I  had  not  heard  she  was 
iU." 

'*  She  has  had  a  light  run  of  fever,  caused  by  over- 
work ;  but  is  convalescent  now,  I  think." 

'*  I  must  call  and  see  her.  She  is  at  home,  I  sap* 
posel" 

"Yes,  she  was  preparing  to  go  away  when  taken 
sick." 

"  Poor  Ella  I  I  am  very  sorry.  I  m^ist  forelj  call 
■nd  see  her  to-morrow  afternoon." 

*^  Do  you  remain  in  Boston  long  t " 


S86  AJf  UNEXPECTED  MBETiNG. 

"  A  few  days  only,  then  1  Bhall  go  home  to  Dedhaa. 
When  does  the  term  begin  ?  " 

"  The  first  Monday  in  September." 

"  OnJy  a  little  more  than  a  week,  then  I  ** 

"  That  is  all  I "  smiling. 

"  Well,  you  may  count  on  me  1 " 

Mr.  Carlisle,  determined  to  make  the  most  of  the 
opportunity,  kept  at  Ilelen's  side  during  the  remain 
der  of  their  stay,  although  without  monopolizing  her 
conversation  and  attention  to  the  exclusion  of  the  rest 
of  the  party,  and  they  all  left  the  grounds  together, 
taking  the  same  car  for  Boston. 

As  has  been  previously  stated,  he  was  a  gentleman 
of  rare  culture  and  refinement,  and  made  himself  so 
agreeable,  that  the  whole  party  were  exceedingly 
pleased  with  him,  and  when,  on  reaching  Boston,  they 
exchanged  for  their  own  car,  he  was  strongly  urged  to 
accompany  them  home,  and  spend  the  evening.  He 
hesitated  for  a  time,  scarcely  knowing  what  reply  to 
make ;  but  an  evening  once  more  in  the  society  of  the 
woman  he  loved  was  a  stronger  temptation  than  he 
felt  able  to  resist,  and  he  at  length  accepted  with  pleas- 
ure the  very  pressing  and  cordial  invitation  extended  to 
him. 

The  evening  passed  as  such  evenings  generally  do 
pass ;  in  unimportant  conversation  and  lively  reparteOi 
with  now  and  then  an  interval  of  really  sensible  con- 
versation, a  little  music,  and  the  like. 

Mr.  Carlisle,  without  rendering  his  attentions  marked, 
contrived  to  make  Miss  Helen  understand  that  she  wat 
•till  as  dear  as  ever  to  him,  and  she  in  turn  was  al] 


AM  UNBXrECTED  MBBTIirB,  %%1 

tluit  he  conld  desire,  and  Iiope  held  high  ;mniivA]  la 
hii  heart  when  he  took  his  leave. 

She  was  standiug  a  little  apart  from  the  others — per- 
haps intentionally — bending  over  a  stand  of  plants, 
when  he  came  to  bid  her  good-  by. 

"  Good-night,  Helen  I "  he  said  softly,  as  he  extendei 
his  hand.  "  I  am  more  happy  than  I  can  tell  yen  tX 
meeting  you  again,  and  I  would  be  glad  to  have  a  littla 
conversation  with  you.  May  I  call  for  you  at  Miss 
Clare's  to-morrow  afternoon  ? " 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish,"  she  returned  somewhat  con* 
fusedly. 

"  At  what  hour,  please,  Helen  I" 

"  About  four  o'clock,  I  think." 

**  Then  farewell  until  then  1 " 

He  pressed  her  hand,  looked  into  her  eyes  for  • 
moment  with  a  very  eloquent  glance,  turned  away, 
made  his  adieus  to  the  others,  and  was  gone. 

"  What  an  agreeable  man,  and  how  noble  he  is  in 
looks  and  appearance ! "  exclaimed  Berrie,  when  he 
was  out  of  hearing.  "  Is  he  rich,  Helen  ? "  mischievously, 

"  Scarcely  I  He  is  sub-master  of  the  school  in  which 
I  taught  last  winter,  or  rather,  was,  for  he  tells  me  h« 
is  to  be  principal  hereafter." 

"  Then  if  he  lacks  the  one  attractive  quality  to  yoa, 
I  suppose  it  is  of  no  use  to  tease  you  about  him." 

"  Not  the  slightest,  I  assure  you  1 "  calmly. 

"  Well,  I  think  he  is  splendid,  at  all  events  1  Don^t 
you,  girls  ? " 

They  all    agreed  with  her,  and  the  subject 
iropped. 


g$$  AN  UNSXPECTEV  MEBTUfQ. 

The  following  afternoon  about  three  o'doidc,  in  tkt 
eh*mber  of  a  pleasant  house  at  the  South  End,  Mt 
ICias  Helen  Harrington,  while  near  her,  propped  up 
with  pillows,  reclined  a  delicate  looking  young  Iftdji 
r>me  two  or  three  years  Helen's  senior. 

**  How  well  you  are  looking,  Helen  1 "  the  said,  after 
a  alight  pause  in  the  conversation,  in  which  sh©  had 
been  intently  regarding  her  friend.  "  So  much  better 
than  when  you  left  town  last  winter.  Do  you  know, 
your  sudden  resignation  created  quite  a  sensation  at 
school  ?  I  shall  not  soon  forget  how  Mr.  Carlisle  looked 
when  informed  you  had  resigned  and  gone  home.  I 
think  he  liked  you  very  much,  Helen." 

"  Yes,  we  were  very  good  friends.  My  health  wai 
miserable  when  I  went  away,  and  in  fact  has  been  ever 
since  until  within  a  few  weeks.  I  have  been  visiting 
some  friends  and  got  recruited,  you  see." 

Never  had  she  looked  better,  indeed  1  The  expect- 
ant excitement  which  she  felt  had  tinged  her  olive 
cheeks  with  a  very  warm,  fresh  hue,  her  dark  eyes 
glowed  and  sparkled,  and  she  was  exceedingly  becom- 
ingly dressed. 

**  Teaching  makes  fearful  havoc  with  my  nervet  I  * 
ibe  ad  led. 

"  Why  don't  you  give  it  up,  and  try  something  else 
thon?" 

"What,  pray?" 

«*  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  I  should  think  you  might  write." 

"  1  should  think  so  too,  only  I  can't  afford  the  time 
to  build  up  a  reputation.  One  must  eat,  drink,  dreiS| 
•ad  be  housed,  you  know,  nelons-volena." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETINQ.  289 

"  I  know,  but  can't  you  teach  and  write  too,  to  bogis 
irth?" 

"  1  thought  I  could ;  but  when  I  am  through  with 
the  day'?  teaching,  my  nerves  are  in  such  Bplintem 
that  I  can't  patch  them  up  sufficiently  to  write. 
One  must  be  fresh  to  do  that  sort  of  work.  Mental 
activity  cannot  be  expected  when  the  whole  physical 
system  is  wearied  and  overtasked." 

A  servant  entering  at  that  moment,  informed  her 
mistress  that  there  was  a  gentleman  below  to  see  Miu 
Harrington,  and  she  arose  at  once  to  go. 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  she  said.  "  A  friend  told  me  he  would 
call  for  me.  Good-by,  Ella ;  I  hope  you  will  be  better 
the  next  time  I  see  you." 

"  Yes,  I  am  improving  every  day  now.  I  am  8orry 
you  must  hurry  away." 

"  Well,  I  shall  be  in  town  for  the  winter  in  a  week  or 
two,  and  then  shall  see  you  often.  Good-by  until 
then,"  and  kissing  her,  she  hastily  left  the  room  to 
meet  the  friend  who  impatiently  awaited  her  coming 
below. 

She  was  so  excited  that  her  teeth  fairly  chattered, 
warm  summer  day  though  it  was ;  and  obliged  to  keep 
them  tightly  shut,  he  had  the  conversation  almost 
wholly  to  himself  for  a  time.  The  nearest  place  of 
public  resort  was  Chester  Square,  and  towards  that 
beautiful  little  park  he  accordingly  led  her. 

The  day  was  scarcely  less  lovely  than  the  preceding 
one ;  the  playful  waters  of  the  fountain  glistened  in 
the  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun,  the  flower  borders  were 
brilliant  with  summer's  richest  blooms,  and  the  minia* 

18 


290  ^^  UNEXPECTED  MEETINO. 

ture  groves  cool  and  sliady  to  the  eye.  Tliey  sat  ddwn 
in  one  of  the  least  conspicuous  seats,  and  after  a  little 
common-place  conversation,  Mr.  Carlisle  began  tin 
subject  so  near  his  heart. 

"  Helen,  I  received  a  letter  from  you  about  two 
months  ago." 

"  Yes,"  low  and  quietly. 

"  It  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  pain,  Helen  1 " 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Mr,  Carlisle,"  still  more  foftlj. 

"  Sorry  enough  to  retract  what  you  said  in  that,  and 
to  say  '  yes '  to  the  questions  contained  in  mine  to  you  f  " 

No  answer. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me  ?  Have  I  deceived 
myself  in  thinking  since  I  met  you  yesterday,  that 
there  was  still  hope  for  me  ?  Speak  to  me,  Helen ' " 
as  he  still  received  no  answer. 

"What  shall  1  say,  Mr.  Carlisle?"  with  downcast 
eyes,  and  lips  that,  haughty  as  they  were,  trembled 
visibly. 

«  That  I  may  hope." 

"  You  may  hope." 

He  held  out  his  hand  without  a  word,  and  daaped  it 
warmly  for  a  moment  over  the  one  placed  hesitatingly 
within  it,  their  eyes  met  for  an  instant,  and — they  were 
betrothed. 

They  sat  in  silence  for  many  minutes,  a  silence  that 
was  more  eloquent  than  words,  that  spoke  the  deep 
content  which  filled  both  their  hearts,  tlien  Helen  arosa 

"  I  must  go,  Mr.  Carlisle,  my  friends  will  be  ex- 
pecting me.  As  school  begins  so  soon,  I  shall  go  home 
•omei^hat  earlier  than  I  intended." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETIHa.  S91 

"  Since  teaching  is  so  distasteful  to  you,  Helen,  why 
flot  give  it  up  ? " 

"  I  cannot  afford  it,  Mr.  Carlisle,  as  I  have  told  yon 
before,"  smiling  up  in  the  noble  faoe  bent  to  catch  her 
words. 

**I  shall  not  permit  yon  to  do  it  for  long.  One 
term  at  the  most,  and  then  yon  must  leave  teaching 
for  house-keeping." 

There  was  not  much  to  choose  between  them,  she 
thought,  but  of  course  did  not  say  it. 

"  When  do  you  intend  going  home ! "  he  eon- 
tinned. 

"  To-morrow,  or  the  following  day,  I  think.'' 

•  Then  I  shall  not  see  you  again." 

«  Probably  not." 

"  May  I  come  out  to  Dedham  before  yon  retnm  to 
Boston?" 

"  I  should  be  so  glad  if  you  would  I  I  wonld  like 
for  you  and  my  mother  to  meet  soon." 

"  I  shall  come,  you  may  be  sure." 

"  Is  not  that  my  car  1 " 

"  I  think  it  is,  yes." 

«Good-by,  then,  Mr.  Carlisle." 

"  God  bless  you,  Helen  I "  he  said,  very  low,  as  he 
released  her  hand  after  assisting  her  on  the  step  of  the 
car,  and  lifting  his  hat  to  her,  he  turned  away  as  the 
car  glided  swiftly  onward. 

"  Maud,  I  must  go  home  to-morrow ! "  said  Helen 
that  evening,  as  they  were  making  preparations  to  ^^o 
apstairs  for  the  night. 

**  Nonsense,  Helen  t   yon  must  do  no  snch  thinif. 


292  .4Jr  UNEXPECTED  MEETISQ, 

Belle  and  Berne  are  going  away  on  the  foli  owing  daj 
and  I  can't  have  you  all  go  at  one  time." 

"  But  school  begins  a  week  from  next  Monday,  and 
I  must  have  some  time  at  home.  I  shall  soon  be  back, 
you  know,  and  you  will  see  all  you  want  to  of  me  for 
the  next  three  months." 

"  Not  tmless  you  do  better  than  you  did  last  wiD 
ter." 

"  Well,  I  shall,  doubtless.  I  must  go,  at  all  events, 
although  I  would  like  to  stay  more  than  you  wish  to 
have  me." 

Therefore,  on  the  following  day  she  took  an  after- 
noon train  for  Dedham,  and  on  the  succeeding  one 
Belle  and  Berrie  Burton  were  whirled  out  of  the  same 
depot  for  home,  with  trunks  laden  with  silks,  laces,  a 
marvellous  "  love  of  a  bonnet,"  and  other  acceeaoriet  to 
a  stylish  bri  lal  trousseau. 


CHAPTER  XXm 

DOUBT — DISAPPOINTMENT — A   WEDDIN<J» 

**Th«  first  and  last  word  in  life's  volume  is — BouH  !  ** 

OWEK  lllKBSOm. 

**  So  these  were  wed,  and  merrily  rang  the  bells : 
Merrily  rang  the  beUs,  and  they  were  wed." 

TmorreoB. 


iIIE  bridal  preparations  went  swiftly  forwar<i 
and  the  twenty-eighth  of  October  was  nearlj 
at  hand,  when  Berrie  and  Belle  sat  one  mom- 
Lag  in  the  room  of  the  latter,  holding  a  consnltation 
over  some  article  of  wearing  apparel  for  the  important 
occasion. 

"By  the  way,  Belle,"  exclaimed  Berrie  abruptly, 
"  has  Mr.  Wright  engaged  his  groomsman  yet  ?  I  am 
anxious  to  know  who  is  to  bo  my  escort  on  that  happy 
'iay." 

"Why,  yes,  didn't  I  tell  you?  he  asked  Charley  An- 
ierson,  the  last  time  he  was  here." 

"  Charlie  Anderson  I  and  did  he  consent  1 " 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  After  some  cbjections,  I  beli«Te^ 
however." 


294:     D0TTBT—DT8APP0INTMENT—A    WEDDING. 

"  "Well,  Belle,  get  some  one  else  to  take  my  plaM^ 
won't  you  ?     Send  for  Maud." 

"  Nonsense,  Beirie  1  What  an  idea  I  I  thought  yon 
liked  Onarne/' 

«  Well— I  do." 

"  And  I  know  he  likes  you." 

"  That  is  the  trouble  ;  he  likea  me  too  welL" 

Belle  looked  up  in  astonishment. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  I  thought  he  was  a  confirmed  old 
bachelor.     And  you  do  not  care  for  him  ?  " 

"  Not  in  that  way,  no  1  I  didn't  mean  to  say  any- 
thing about  it.  Don't  mention  it  to  Mr.  Wright  for 
the  world." 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  I  can't  have  any  one  but  you 
for  bridesmaid.  I  am  sorry  he  asked  Charlie,  though, 
if  that  is  the  case.     I  wish  Mr.  Adair  was  here  1 " 

"  So  do  I,  with  all  my  heart!  " 

The  earnest  wish  of  her  heart  was  spoken  involun- 
tarily, and  she  turned  away  to  hide  the  blushes  that 
followed  the  consciousness  that  she  had  spoken  aloud. 

Belle  laughed.  "  You  need  not  look  so  confused, 
Berrie;  of  course  I  know  you  wish  he  was  here,  al- 
though you  are  so  shy  about  acknowledging  it.  What 
is  the  use  of  being  so  secret  with  your  own  sister, 
dear  ? " 

" '  My  own  sister '  will  soon  be  a  married  woman, 
and  you  know  they  cannot  keep  secrets." 

"  I  think  I  could  keep  yours  ;  besides,  I  fancy  that 
George  knows  more  about  the  matter  than  I  do.  Now 
truly,  Berrie,  didn't  Mr.  Adair  tell  you  that  he  loved 
you,  and  give  you  that  handsome  ring  you  wear  I " 


DOUnr—DlSAPPOrNTMENT—A    %TlDDI2fO.     298 

"Are  you  a  witch,  Belle  ? " 

"No,  only  a  woman,  and  a  'Yankee'!"  langhisif. 
"  I  conld  guess  how  the  matter  was  going,  Beme." 

"Come  here.  Belle  I" 

Her  sister  came  towards  her,  and  touching  the  aprin^ 
of  the  ring  on  her  finger,  she  showed  to  the  surpriaei 
eyes  of  her  sister,  the  handsome  face  of  her  friend. 

"Oh,  how  perfect  I  he  i3  splendid,  Berrie,  and  I 
wish  he  was  here." 

How  sw«et  was  such  praise  to  the  ear  of  the  girl 
that  loved  him  ;  how  thoroughly  was  the  repeated  wish 
echoed  in  her  heart  of  hearts.  But  she  said  nothing ; 
only  the  dark  eyes  dimned  a  little  with  gathering  tears, 
the  proud,  sweet  lips  trembled  with  the  longing  for 
his  presence. 

"  I  guessed,  the  moment  that  I  saw  the  ring,  Berrie," 
she  continued,  as  the  spring  clicked  in  closing,  "  from 
what  source  it  came  ;  but  J.  thought  perhaps  you  would 
rather  I  should  not  say  it.  It  is  handsomer  than  a 
Bolitaire,  but  not  so  conventional." 

"  It  is  not  an  engagement  ring.  Belle,  only  a  parting 
token  of  remembrance." 

"  But  you  are  engaged,  Berrie  ?  " 

"No I  not  really;  but  if  all  be  wellj  when  he  re- 
turns there  may  be  a  wedding,"  smiling  and  blushing. 

"  Well,  it  will  bb  all  right,  I  know.  He  is  sure  t€ 
be  true,  and  if  you  love  him,  you  will  be  also.  I  feel 
provoked  at  him,  though,  for  keeping  you  waitir\g  w 
long." 

"  He  does  not  trust  me  very  well — believea  Uiat  1 
ih*U  not  be  constant" 


296     DOUBT—DIBAPPOrSTMffST-A    WEDDIWQ, 

"  He  does  not  know  mj  true  little  sistei  " 

"  Well,  he  has  some  excuse  for  want  of  confidence," 
uid  amid  many  exclamations  of  surprise  from  Belle, 
she  related  briefly  the  events  of  his  life,  communicated 
in  the  letter  sent  on  his  arrival  at  Venice. 

"  It  was  settled  the  night  before  he  went  awEy— 
when  you  were  out  walking  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  the  storm." 

"  I  was  sure  of  it  1     But  you  have  heard  from  him  I " 

"Once— last  May.  Mr.  Wright  brought  it  to  me 
the  time  he  asked  you  to  name  the  happy  day." 

"  I  told  you  George  knew  more  than  1  did.  Well  I 
you  have  only  confirmed  what  I  was  satisfied  of  be- 
fore.    Yon  need  not  regret  telling  me,  dear." 

"  Oh  I  do  not  1  it  is  a  relief,  rather.  I  do  so  long 
sometimes  to  speak  of  him,  get  so  tired  of  thinking, 
thinking,  of  what  I  must  not  speak." 

"  More  than  ever,  now,  I  wish  he  was  here.  Think, 
if  he  only  were,  Berrie ! " 

"  Don't,  Belle  1  it  seems  sometimes  as  if  he  mvst 
come  I "  and  a  few  bright  tears  trickled  through  the 
fingers  that  covered  her  face. 

At  the  same  hour,  in  his  Venetian  office,  sat  the  ob- 
ject of  the  foregoing  conversation.  He  held  an  open 
letter  in  his  hand,  and  his  brow  was  contracted  with 
pcjrplexity  and  pain.  Musing  a  few  moments,  he 
turned  again  to  the  letter,  and  read  as  follows .  "  I 
have  just  had  a  short  vacation,  and  of  course  spent  it 
in  Bristol.  You  will  not  wonder  that  I  say  '  of  course ' 
when  I  tell  you  that  Miss  Burton  is  to  become  Mra 
Wright  on  the  twenty-eighth  day  of  next  October."— 


J>OUBT—DiajJ*POINTMBNT-A    yEDDlNO.     291 

There  was  only  one  Miss  Burton  to  him,  and  whei  te 
had  first  glanced  over  the  letter,  his  heart  had  stood 
still  for  a  moment  at  the  sentence,  until  he  recollected, 
with  a  smile  at  his  folly,  that  Belle  was  Miss  Burton, 
and  the  prospect,  ere  his  departure,  of  her  becoming 
Mrs.  Wright ;  but  now  he  read  rapidly  on  : — "  There 
was  quite  a  party  staying  at  the  house,  and  your  little 
Berrie  wsw  as  lovely  and  bewitching  as  ever,  and  wore 
a  ring  on  her  finger,  at  whose  source  I  think  I  could 
guess.  Miss  Burton's  brother  Charlie  was  at  home- 
by  the  way,  he  is  engaged  to  Maud  Lester  of  Boston, 
whom  I  presume  you  do  not  know,  and  she  and  her 
brother  Ned  were  also  there,  the  latter  of  whom  was 
evidently  very  much  in  love  with  our  pretty  Berrie. 
Miss  Harrington,  a  handsome  brunette,  and  school- 
friend  of  Berrie's,  with  your  humble  servant,  com- 
pleted the  number  of  guests  at  the  hospitable  mansion. 
We  had  quite  a  gay  time  and  among  other  excursion? 
perpetrated  the  one  to  Newport,  in  which  we  failed  so 
•ignally  last  year.  I  often  wished  that  my  friend 
Adair  had  been  present,  and  I  do  not  donbt  that  (me 
other  at  least  did  also.  I  think  it  is  time  joa  were 
writiDg  to  me,  and  have  been  looking  for  a  letter  som^ 
weeks." 

Ned  Lester,  the  handsome,  audacious,  meny  fellow, 
of  whom  he  had  felt  jealous  the  first  time  he  saw  him ; 
— lie  was  there,  installed  as  guest  in  her  home,  doubt- 
less escorting  her  on  the  various  formal  excursions 
which  the  i^irty  had  taken,  perhaps  taking  his  place  id 
his  dear  one's  heart  He  knew  how  much  more  infla- 
«noe  has  %  present  suitor  than  an  absent  one,  inAt  ■» 


ft^     30XIBT—mBAFP0nmiENT-A    WSBDUm. 

rared  that  the  Ned  in  question  was  extremely  fond  oi 
Berne,  and,  alas  1  had  not  the  confidence  in  her  con 
itAncy  which  he  should  have  had. 

Thus  he  tormented  himself  with  all  manner  of 
doubts  of  her  truth,  told  himself  that  he  had  been  ab- 
•ent  a  year  without  receiving  one  line  from  her,  while 
he  had  written  to  her  twice,  and  resolved  to  write  no 
more  until  he  had  received  some  tt)ken  of  remem- 
brance from  her  own  hand : — ignorant  that  in  neither 
letter  had  he  sent  any  address,  and  not  considering  it 
necessary  to  ask  her  especially  to  write,  by  such  a 
course  he  was  recklessly  daring  an  estrangement  that 
would  cause  both  of  them  years  of  unmitigated  pain 
and  regret.  Men  are  the  same  all  the  world  over; 
and  superior  as  he  was  in  many  respects  to  most  of  his 
sex,  he  was  as  jealous,  distrustful,  and  unreasonable 
as  the  majority  of  mankind. 

Thus,  while  Berrie  was  longing  with  all  the  intens- 
ity of  her  loving  heart  for  his  presence,  keeping  her- 
self true  to  him,  in  word,  thought,  and  deed,  he  was 
doing  her  gross  injustice,  and  laying  a  sure  foundation 
for  future  misunderstanding  and  regret. 

The  niglit  before  the  wedding-day,  Mr.  Wright 
made  his  appearance,  and  on  a  favorable  opportunity 
presenting  itself,  he  handed  her  a  sealed  packet,  re- 
marking: "News  at  last  from  the  waniererl  I  re- 
aeived  a  letter  also,  which  I  have  been  expecting  for 
some  time.  I  think  he  might  do  better  than  to  write 
only  twice  in  a  year." 

The  letter  was  not  so  long,  perhaps  not  quite  as  ten- 
der as  the  previous  one ;  at  least,  on  perusing  it,  th« 


DOUBT-^DISAPPOINTMEN r—A    WEDDLSQ.     299 

toying  girl  was  forced  to  acknowledge  herself  difiap- 
pointed.  She  had  waited  for  it  so  long,  longed  every 
day  and  hour  for  its  arrival,  suffered  such  tortures  ol 
disappointment  each  time  that  Mr.  Wright  made  hii 
appearance  without  bringing  her  what  she  so  miLch  de- 
sired, judged  him  by  herself,  and  thought  that  eaah 
month  of  absence  would  render  her  all  the  dearer,  vcA 
opened  the  letter  at  last  with  such  thrills  of  anticipa- 
tory pleasure,  that  for  it  to  fall  so  far  below  her  ex- 
pectation, was  more  than  she  could  bear;  and  some 
very  bitter  tears  fell  on  the  thin  blue  sheets  in  her 
hand.  Then,  too,  he  not  only  sent  her  no  address  in 
this  also,  but  expressed  no  disappointment  or  regret  at 
not  receiving  a  reply  to  his  last ;  and  the  sensitive  girl 
asked  herself  if  it  was  really  possible  that  he  did  not 
wish  her  to  write  to  him,  that  he  already  really  did 
not  love  her  as  well  as  when  he  went  away,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  promptings  of  pride,  resolved  that  she  would 
not  write,  at  least  until  he  did  ask  her. 

Pride  is  a  very  poor  thing  to  stand  between  those 
who  truly  love  1  Ere  the  consciousness  of  reciprocal 
aflEection  is  reached  or  expressed,  it  will  do  ;  but  when 
its  promptings  are  listened  to  after  the  pledging  of 
vows,  it  but  too  often  wrecks  true  and  loving  hearts  for 
life. 

The  wedding  morning  dawned  as  fair  and  lovely  aa 
»ne  could  possibly  desire.  The  noble  old  trees  that 
lined  the  handsome  streets  had  put  on  their  bright- 
hued,  autumnal  robes,  which  took  an  added  beauty 
and  brilliance  under  the  rays  of  t^e  unclouded  morn- 
ing son,  the  air  was  ccol,  and  clear  as  the  ether  above^ 


300     DOUBT- DISAPPOINTMENT- A    WEDDWO. 

and  all  Nature  seemed  doing  her  best  to  render  Um 
morning  perfect. 

We  will  not  enter  into  a  detailed  description  of  th« 
bridal  scene.  Belle  looked  exceedingly  well  in  her 
tasteful  travelling  dress, — in  which  the  oeremonj  wa« 
performed — and  Berrie  equally  so  in  her  similar  at- 
tire, although  rather  sad  at  losing  her  sister,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  lingering  effects  of  her  disappointment 
on  the  preceding  evening.  The  ceremony  was  per- 
formed at  home,  but  few  guests  being  present,  and 
cards  were  issued  for  a  grand  reception  on  the  return 
of  the  bridal  pair  from  Niagara  and  other  places  of  in- 
terest which  it  was  their  intention  to  visit.  Maud 
Lester  and  Charlie  Burton  were  down,  and  intended  to 
remain  for  several  days. 

Berrie  and  her  escort,  Charlie  Anderson,  accom- 
panied the  newly-wedded  couple  to  the  depot,  and  on 
their  return  were  of  course  alone  in  the  carriage  to- 
gether. Berrie  felt  embarrassed,  and  wished  herself 
at  home,  and  Charlie  looked  very  grave  indeed.  In 
fact  he  had  done  so  all  day ;  it  was  an  exceedingly  try- 
ing time  to  him.     At  last  he  spoke : 

"  Berrie,  I  am  going  abroad  next  montii,  if  the 
ireather  is  not  too  severe." 

"  Indeed,  Charlie  ?    We  shall  miss  you  very  much.** 

**  WeU,  it  is  pleasant  to  be  missed  by  one's  friendfl, 
you  know,"  with  a  grave  smile. 

"  You  have  chosen  a  rather  unpleasant  season,  it 
teems  to  me." 

"Yet,  tomewhat,  but  my  butinesB  it  to  arranged 


DOUBT-  DISAI'POIJSTMENT—A    WEDDING.     301 

that  I  can  leave  now  without  detriment,  and  It  might 
not  be  in  the  spring." 

"  How  long  do  you  intend  being  absent  f  " 

"  I  do  not  know  I  Urtil  I  learn  a  little  self  <5cntrol, 
at  least" 

This  was  what  she  had  dreaded,  and  she  remained 
lilent 

"  Will  you  not  bid  me  God-speed,  Berrie  f  '*  and  he 
held  out  his  hand. 

Berrie  looked  up  at  him  with  eyes  that  were  full  of 
tears,  as  she  said,  placing  her  hand  in  the  one  ex- 
tended :  "  I  do,  with  all  my  heart,  Charlie  1  May  yoa 
have  a  most  pleasant  and  prosperous  journey,  and  re- 
turn soon  with  new  health  and  spirits.  I  am  80  Borry 
that  you  must  go." 

"  But  you  think  it  wise  ? " 

"  Perhaps  so,  yes !  you  are  the  best  judge  of  that. 
May  God  keep  you,  my  friend." 

He  wrung  her  hand  without  reply  as  he  assisted  her 
from  the  carriage,  but  with  lips  that  trembled  under 
his  long  mustache. 

She  went  directly  to  her  room,  and  sat  down  by  the 
cheery  west  vtdndow,  while  her  eyes  filled  again  and 
again  with  pain,  longing,  and  regret.  Life  looked  very 
Bad  to  her  that  day.  Her  sister  gone,  to  enter  that 
place  no  more  as  her  home,  to  return  but  for  a  brief 
Interval  ere  she  should  leave  them  for  a  home  of  her 
own  in  a  distant  city ;  her  dearest  friend  absent,  gone 
for  yearly  perhaps  never  to  return  to  her  /  and  Charlie, 
whom  she  had  esteemed  so  highly,  who  had  been  such 
a  freqaent  companion  and  dear  friend,  driven  away 


802     DOUBT— DISAPPOINTMENT-A    VEDDING.] 

from  her  with  a  heart  filled  with  pain  of  which  she  WM 
the  catiBe.  Life  was  but  a  failure  and  disappointment, 
she  felt,  and  the  future  which  l(X)ked  so  bright  ta 
•ome,  seemed  to  her  very  dreary  and  bitter  indeed. 

She  did  not  think  of  her  blessings,  as  one  is  so  little 
inclined  to  do  when  under  the  spell  of  sadness  such  ai 
hers;  but  dark  as  seemed  her  life  just  then,  this  w&i 
but  the  beginning  of  shadows,  which  should  wrap  her 
beert  in  the  gloom  of  desolating  sorrow  and  affliction. 


CHAPTER  XXrV. 

CBAHGES BEREAVEMENT A   NEW   HOm 

**  The  dear  home  faces,  whereupon 
The  fitful  firelight  paled  and  shane, 
Henceforward,  listen  as  we  will, 
The  voices  of  that  hearth  are  itill ; 
Look  where  we  will  the  wide  earth  o'er, 
Those  lighted  faces  smile  no  more." 

J.  O.  WHRTHBi 

'T  was  a  gloomy  evening  late  in  November  1 
The  clouds  hung  low  about  the  horizon,  and 
were  gray  and  heavy  with  their  weight  of 
threatening  storms;  the  wind  moaned  and  shrieked 
around  the  corners  of  the  city  streets,  and  the  air  was 
3hill  and  cutting  as  it  struck  the  unprotected  faces  of 
the  passers-by. 

In  the  elegant  parlors  of  a  handsome  house  at  the 
6outh  end  of  Boston,  sat  two  ladies ;  the  elder,  a  dark- 
eyed,  dark-haired,  matronly  woman  of  some  forty 
years,  attired  in  heavy  mourning  robes,  and  the  younger, 
who  was  evidently  her  daughter,  a  stylish  young  lady  of 
tweiity-two,  or  thereabouts,  in  a  fashionable  evening 
home  dress  which  became  her  well. 


804    0nAN0B8-BEREAVBMENT—A  NB'W  /TrfMn 

She  was  rather  pretty,  but  not  in  any  light  bei»  Jtif  t*ij 
with  the  dark  eyes  of  her  mother,  but  with  hair  many 
shades  lighter,  and  a  mouth  that  betrayed  in  every 
curve  the  haughty,  overbearing  character  of  its  possefh 
8or.  Just  now  she  looks  particularly  unplea«ing,  u 
she  discourses  on  a  subject  which  is  evidently  disagree- 
able  to  her. 

"  I  doa't  care,  ma !  I  think  it  is  outrageous  to  in- 
vite her  here  now,  when  Mr.  Hanson  is  still  so  unde- 
cided. Every  one  says  she  is  very  pretty  and  fascinat- 
ing, and  I  know  as  a  child  she  was  lovely.  Yon  might 
have  waited  at  least  until  I  was  off  your  hands,  before 
you  sent  for  her  to  come  here,"  ponted  the  young 
lady. 

"  My  dear  child,"  remonstrated  the  mother,  "  how 
could  I  do  any  less?  Her  mother  wrote  me  on  her 
dying  bed  to  ask  that  I  would  give  her  a  home  for  a 
time,  and  I  could  not  refuse." 

"  Why  don't  she  go  to  some  other  of  her  friends  1  1 
should  not  think  she  would  want  to  come  here,  when 
we  are  all  cearly  strangers  to  her." 

"  But  I  am  her  aunt,  nevertheless,  and  you  her 
cousin,  and  I  hope  you  w^U  treat  her  as  one.  Remem- 
ber she  has  been  greatly  afflicted  of  late,  and  needs  all 
the  kindness  we  can  possibly  show  to  her.^' 

"  Well,  why  don't  she  go  somewhere  else,  whert 
fibe  would  be  certain  of  kiad  treatment  I "  persisted  the 
young  lady. 

^^  Why  yon  know,  Carrit,  ihc  hftsn't  many  reUtaveti 
And  her  brother  and  tutor  are  both  in  Europe." 

"  Tea  I  a  prettj  tune  to  go  to  Europe  after  being  twr 


CHANGB^-BEREAVEMEKT—A  NEW  HOME.   305 

years  married  1     Why  didn't  Belle  go  then   and   be 
back  befc^re  this  time  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  why  she  didn't  go  then,  but  she  went 
DOW  on  account  of  her  health,  and  as  her  brother  waf 
going  for  a  wedding  tour,  they  thought  it  would  be  a 
(good  opportunity." 

"  I  should  have  thought  Miss  Berrie  would  have  goae 
koo  I     Pity  she  hadn't ! "  sneered  the  girl. 

**  I  think  it  would  have  been  a  pity  if  she  had.  She 
remained  at  home  because  she  was  a  dutiful  daughter, 
and  wouldn't  leave  her  mother.  It  is  well  she  did  not ; 
what  would  her  parents  have  done  without  her." 

"  Well,  I  think  it  is  mean  she  is  coming  here,  at  any 
ratel" 

"  Why  Carrie  I  why  are  you  so  averse  to  her  coming 
here  ?  I  should  think  you  would  be  pleased  to  have 
her  here  for  a  companion,  she  is  so  near  your  own 
age." 

"  I  have  got  companions  enough,  and  I  don't  care  to 
be  superseded  by  my  country  cousin." 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  anticipate  anything  of 
the  kind." 

"  Because  she  is  beautiful,  and  you  know  very  well  I 
am  not  1 "  returned  the  jealous,  but  candid  young  lady. 
"  And  /  know,  if  you  don't,  that  beauty  and  style  ore 
decidedly  attractive." 
'    "  That  may  be  I  but  a  sweet  temper,  Carrie,  is  more 

"  Pity  you  hadn't  transmitted  some  of  your  sweet- 
tiees  to  mel "  answered  the  nndutiful  daughter. 

^  Carrie,  be  more  respectful,  if  you  please,"  said  the 


306    CUANQES—BEREA  VEMENT—A  NEW  HOME 

mother,  a  little  sternly.  "  I  cannot  see  why  you 
should  be  so  jealous  of  poor  Berrie;  you  know  she  is 
in  mourning,  and  cannot  go  into  society  for  some 
time  to  come,  and  before  she  leaves  it  off  her  sister 
will  be  home,  doubtless." 

"  Well,  if  she  donH  go  into  society,  she  will  of 
course  be  down  stairs  when  there  is  any  one  here. 
Mr.  Hanson  isn't  any  too  devoted  now,  and  I  wouldn't 
lose  him  after  this  for  all  his  fortune;  the  girls  would 
triumph  so;  they  all  wanted  him  themselves." 

Ding-a-ling-ling,  rang  the  door-bell,  and  the  young 
lady  finished  her  ill-natured  speeches  with  an  impa- 
tient, "  Oh  bother!  I  suppose  she  has  come,  and  I 
shall  have  to  be  on  my  good  behavior.  What  a 
wretched  night  this  is,  any  how!  "  and  she  threw  her- 
self back  in  her  chair  to  await  the  entrance  of  the 
expected  guest. 

A  few  moments  later,  a  servant  opened  the  large 
double  doors  of  the  parlor,  and  announced  "  Miss 
Burton,"  and  Mrs.  Mitchell  went  cordially  forward 
to  meet  the  slender  figure  in  heavy  dress  and  wrap- 
pings of  dead  black. 

"My  dear  child,  welcome  home!"  and  the  lady 
took  her  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  warmly.  "  You 
are  very  cold  and  tired,  are  you  not?  we  have  been 
expecting  you  for  some  time  " — looking  at  her  watch 
— "  it  is  now  after  six." 

"  Yes,  the  train  was  late  to-night!  "  answered  the 
sad,  soft  voice,  "  and  the  air  is  very  cold.  You  are 
so  like  my  dear  mother,  auntie !  "  and  the  large  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 


OBANOES-BEREAVEMENT—A  NSW  HOAiE.   307 

"  Yes  ?  we  were  called  very  like  each  other  when  we 
were  youixg.  This  is  your  cousin  Carrie,  Berrie,  I  hope 
you  will  be  very  good  friends,"  with  a  slightly  beseech 
ing  look  at  her  daughter. 

The  young  lady  arose  and  came  indolentlj  forward, 
taking  in  a  cold,  limp  grasp  the  hand  extended,  and 
»aying  coolly :  "  Oh  I  dare  say  we  shall  -€  as  good 
friends  as  two  young  ladies  living  in  the  same  honie 
are  apt  to  be.     Are  you  well,  Berrie  ? '' 

"  Well,  thank  you ;  but  very  tired.  May  1  go  np- 
utairs  at  once,  auntie  ? "  chilled  at  the  cold  reception 
from  her  cousin,  from  whom  she  had  hoped  so  much  i» 
the  way  of  companionship  and  sympathy. 

"  Certainly,  my  child  1  I  will  send  for  Annie  to 
ahow  you  to  your  room,"  and  she  stepped  into  the  back 
parlor  and  pulled  the  bell. 

"  "Will  you  come  down  to  dinner  in  half  an  hour  !  ** 
Bhe  continued,  while  awaiting  a  reply  to  her  summonr, 
"  or  shall  I  send  it  up  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  trouble  you  to  do  that,  auntie  ;  1  do  noi 
require  anything  to-night  but  rest,  I  think." 

"  Send  Miss  Annie  here,"  said  Mrs.  Mitchell  to  th« 
servant  who  answered  the  bell. 

A  few  moments  later  the  door  opened  again  to  admit 
a  pretty  young  girl  about  fourteen  years  of  age.  There 
were  elements  of  rare  beauty  in  the  unperfected  face, 
•nd  had  she  been  a  little  older,  her  sister  would  donbt> 
less  have  been  as  jealous  of  her  as  of  her  cousin. 

The  young  girl  came  smilingly  forward,  and,  as  her 
mother  said,  "  This  is  your  ccusin  Berrie,  Annie  ;  take 
her  up  stairs,  will  you,  dear  ? "  she  held  oat  a  b'ttle 


308    CEANGE3-BEREA  VEMENT—A   NEW  HOiO. 

dimpled  hand,  and  pouted  two  red  lips  archly  for  • 
kiss.  Berrie  kissed  her  very  warmly,  feeling  the  con- 
trast between  her  reception  of  the  stranger  and  her 
•iflter's,  and  hoping  that  she  at  least  would  be  a  friend 
to  the  lonely  girl,  who  to  one  member  of  the  family 
was  so  unwelcome  %  gfuest. 

"  I  am  real  glad  to  see  you,  Berrie  I "  she  said, 
laughing.  "  I  have  heard  so  much  about  my  pret- 
ty cousin.  Come  upstairs,  ma  says,"  and  she  pre- 
ceded her  from  the  room.  On  the  stairs  she  paused 
until  Berrie  reached  her,  then  slipping  her  hand  in  hei 
cousin's  arm,  she  walked  beside  her,  chatting  gaily  all 
the  way. 

"  What  a  merry  little  girl  you  are,  Annie ! "  said 
Berrie,  smiling,  as  she  was  ushered  gaily  into  the 
room  prepared  for  her.  "  You  rcmmd  me  of  my  little 
Hattie ;  I  suppose  she  Is  very  lonely  to-night  without 
her  sister,  and  her  dear  mother  and  father  lying  under 
the  cold,  cold  ground.  Don't  you  feel  sorry  for  her, 
dear  ? "  and  with  her  arm  around  the  slender  waist  of 
the  young  girl,  she  sat  down  wearily  in  an  easy  chair 
drawn  up  cosily  before  the  grate. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  do,  and  for  you,  too,  cousin,"  and  the 
dark  eyes  filled  sympathetically.  "  I  have  no  papa, 
but  he  died  before  I  can  remember,  and  I  couldn't  live 
^rithout  my  dear  mamma,  Berrie." 

"  So  Hattie  thought  at  first,  but  she  has  learned  thm 
early  'tis  not  so  easy  to  die." 

"  Poor  little  girl  I  where  is  she,  cousin  ? " 

'^At  boarding-schooL  A  year  has  made  a  great 
ehange  in  our  lives." 


CHANOEB-BBREAVEMENT—A  NEW  UOME.  SOU 

"  I  am  BO  Borry,  Berrie,but  we  wUl  make  you  just  aa 
happy  ae  we  can,"  and  the  sweet  girl  &mtx)thed  caress- 
ingly the  soft  cheek  of  her  companion. 

After  a  few  moments  she  asked  gently :  "  How  do 
fou  like  your  room,  cousin  1 " 

Berrie  looked  around  the  large,  airy  apartment,  at 
the  handsome  chamber-suite,  the  hot-house  bouquet  on 
the  little  stand  between  the  windows,  at  the  cheerful 
fire  in  the  open  grate,  and  answered,  trying  to  smile : 
"  It  ia  very  nice,  Annie,  dear  1  Who  was  so  kind  as  to 
give  me  such  a  handsome  bouquet  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  was  out  walking  to-day,  and  I  thought  per- 
haps you  were  as  fond  of  flowers  as  I  am,  so  I  just 
stepped  in  at  a  florist's  and  bought  that.  Isn't  that 
camelia  beautiful,  Berrie  ?  "  and  she  brought  the  little 
vase  containing  the  bouquet  to  her  cousin. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  very,  and  I  love  flowers  dearly  I  Here 
are  some  of  my  favorites  too ;  heliotrope,  tube-roses, 
violets  and  mignonette  ;  you  are  very  kind,  little  cousin, 
and  I  thank  you  more  than  I  can  say." 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  1 "  laughed  the  girl.  "  I  expect 
I  got  my  pay  in  the  pleasure  I  had  in  baying  it.  Oh, 
there  is  the  dinner-bell ;  are  you  going  dovm,  Ber- 
rie?" 

"  Not  to-night,  Annie,  I  think ;  I  do  not  care  for 
anything." 

"  Well,  I  presume  ma  will  send  you  np  something 
I  am  real  glad  you  came,  anyway,  if  Cad — "  she 
paused,  frightened  at  how  near  she  had  come  to  betray- 
ing her  sister's  nncordiality,  and  wounding  her  ooQflin'i 
feelings. 


310    CEANOES-  BEREAVEMENT    A  NEW  HOMS. 

"  If  Carrie  isn't,  you  meant  to  say  ?  "  Berrio  aeked, 
smiling  a  little,  although  somewhat  sadly. 

"  Well,  Cad  is  cross ;  you  needn't  mind  her.  Shf 
thinks  that  you  are  so  much  prettier  than  she  iB|  that 
you  are  going  to  cut  her  out." 

"  She  need  not  be  alarmed  1  But  I  am  glad  if  yoD 
are  going  to  be  my  little  friend,  Annie." 

"  Of  course  I  am  1  I  love  you  dearly  already  1 "  and 
the  arm  that  was  around  Berrie's  neck  tightened  rather 
uncomfortably.  "  But  there !  I  must  go  down  to  din- 
ner, or  ma  will  scold.  By-by,  cousin,"  and  laughingly 
kissing  her  hand  to  her,  she  ran  off,  just  as  a  servant 
entered  with  a  tray  heaped  with  a  very  inviting  dinner 
for  the  weary  girl. 

As  will  be  inferred  from  portions  of  the  foregoing 
conversation,  Berrie's  life  liad  sadly  darkened  since  her 
sister's  wedding  day,  a  little  more  than  two  years  pre- 
vious. Everything  but  loss  of  fortune  seemed  to  con- 
spire together  to  sadden  her  heart,  and  render  her 
hitherto  bright,  happy  life,  a  weariness  and  a  blank. 

The  letter  received  on  the  evening  preceding  her 
sister's  bridal,  from  the  man  who  had  professed  to  love- 
her  so  dearly,  was  the  last  that  had  come  to  her  hand. 
For  a  year  not  a  month  passed  but  she  hoped  and  ex- 
pected to  hear  from  hira,  and  h^^r  heart  had  sunk  again 
and  again  under  the  sickening  pressure  of  hope  de- 
ferred. For  a  time  she  would  not  allow  herself  to 
doubt  his  truth  and  affection,  assuring  her  heart  that  a 
thousand  things  might  have  conspired  to  prevent  her 
hearing  from  him.  He  might  be  ill ;  letters  might 
miscarry  or  be  loet  entirely ;  anything  or  everything 


OEANOES-  dEREAVEMENT- A  NEW  HOME.    811 

might  happen  except  that  he  should  be  fickle  or  nu- 
true.  But  as  time  wore  on,  and  still  no  letter  came  to 
■Bsure  her  of  his  constancy,  liope  gradually  died  out  in 
her  heartj  and  she  gave  him  up  for  lost,  to  her  at  least, 
forever. 

Of  all  the  weary  days  of  longing  that  had  come  and 
gone  since  then,  we  will  not  speak.  Those  who  have 
hoped  and  waited,  and  despaired  and  waited,  will  un- 
derstand and  realize  it  all.  WitJi  her  to  love  once  was 
to  love  forever ;  and  though  they  might  be  parted  to 
meet  no  more  on  earth,  she  could  but  be  true  to  her- 
self, and  in  being  that  she  was  true  as  steel  to  him, 
false,  fickle,  inconptant  though  he  might  be. 

She  had  tried  to  hope  for  the  best,  and  bore  bis 
seeming  desertion  very  bravely ;  but  there  were  days 
when  her  heart  was  eo  sore  and  heavy,  when  bitter 
tears  pressed  so  closely  to  her  aching  eyes,  that  she  could 
but  yield  for  a  time  to  despondency,  and  let  her  grief 
spend  itself  in  tears  and  sighs,  and  moans  of  anguish, 
which  alone  could  bring  a  calm  to  the  tempest  raging 
BO  violently  within  her  soul. 

Her  sister  Belle  had  spent  the  Summer  following 
her  marriage  at  home,  endeavoring  to  recover  health 
and  strength  after  a  long  couree  of  fever,  by  which  she 
had  been  attacked  in  the  Spring,  but  her  brother's 
wedding  day  in  the  Fall  finding  her  still  weak  and 
frail,  her  husband  arranged  his  businws  for  an  in- 
definite absence,  and  took  his  wife  abroad,  with  the 
bridal  pair  for  companions.  Either  couple  would  have 
been  more  than  pleased  to  have  taken  Beirie  with  them 
»lao,  but  her  mother,  with  her  old  dre;ad  of  Ihe  sea,  could 


812    CHANOEB— BEREAVEMENT— A  NEW  EOMS. 

not  consent  to  part  with  so  many  of  her  children  on 
what  she  considered  so  perilous  a  journey,  and  Berrie, 
loving  her  mother  too  well  to  cause  her  a  moment'! 
anxiety  which  she  could  prevent,  dutifully  remained 
at  homa.  A  sacrifice,  if  such  it  was,  which  she  ever 
felt  happy  to  have  made. 

Early  in  the  following  Summer  her  father's  health 
began  to  decline,  and  though  at  first  they  considered 
him  only  slightly  indisposed,  they  found  after  a  time 
that  he  was  suffering  from  a  slow  fever  that  was  sapping 
the  vital  forces  of  his  system,  and  which,  as  the  warm 
weather  came  on,  grew  more  violent  in  symptoms,  un- 
til it  took  a  typhoid  form,  and  after  a  long  run — for  he 
was  a  man  of  iron  constitution — ^lie  sank  into  a  stupor 
from  which  he  never  rallied,  and  when  the  gardens 
were  brilliant  with  the  blooms  of  mid-summer,  they 
laid  him  to  rest  amid  the  trees  and  shrubs  of  the  new 
cemetery,  and  tunied  away  to  their  desolate  home,  al- 
most heart-broken  with  grief. 

But  the  end  was  not  yet.  Mrs.  Burton,  pining  for 
her  dear  companion  of  so  many  happy  years,  and  ex- 
hausted with  grief  and  the  long  hours  of  watching 
over  the  sinking  form  of  her  loved  one,  also  jnelded  to 
the  slow  approaches  of  the  insidious  disease  which  had 
gapped  the  life-energies  of  her  husband,  and  at  last 
took  her  bed,  never  to  rise  again,  until  the  soul  had 
wandered  into  the  realms  of  a  better  world. 

Poor  Berrie's  cup  of  grief  seemed  full  to  the  very 
brim.  Unused  to  sickness  in  any  form,  almost  pros- 
trated herself  with  sorrow  an  i  watching,  all  alone,  no 
relative  or  near  friend  there  to  comfort  or  assiflt,  and  her 


CHAHQES—DEliEAVEMENT—A  NEW  HOME.  313 

mother,  bo  dear  to  her,  whose  life  and  health  eeemed 
necbssary  to  her  very  existence,  stretched  on  a  couch  of 
iiiff(7i'ing,  perhaps  never  to  rise  again,  seemed  more 
than  the  stricken  girl  conld  bear.  Life  looked  very 
dark  to  her,  and  wildly  did  she  pray  at  times  that  God 
ivouid  take  her  also,  and  not  leave  her  here  to  mourn 
•bore  her  shattered  idols,  torn  one  by  one  from  her 
loring  grasp.  But  her  very  loneliness  rendered  the 
Qeceasity  for  exertion  all  the  greater,  and  prevented  her 
from  sinking  under  her  grief,  as  she  would  have  done, 
had  theie  been  any  one  else  present  on  whom  the  care 
might  devolve. 

It  was  a  trying  time  to  the  poor  girl,  and  looking 
back  now,  it  seemed  to  her  like  a  long  and  bitter 
dream,  from  -which  she  might  soon  awake,  to  find  her- 
self surrounded  by  her  dear  ones,  in  the  dear  old 
Bristol  home. 

Her  mother  had  sunk  so  gradually  under  the  cruel 
disease,  that  she  had  been  enabled  to  write  to  her  sis- 
ter, then  residing  in  Boston,  and  who  had,  until  within 
a  few  months,  been  resident  in  the  Southern  Stettife, 
asking  her  protection  for  her  lonely  girl  until  hei-  sis- 
ter's return  from  Europe,  should  a  fatal  termination  to 
hei  illness  render  it  necessary.  Mrs.  MitcheL  had  re- 
plied very  kindly,  and  Berrie,  after  remaining  a  month 
in  her  di*eary,  desolate  home,  to  arrange  such  matters 
A8  had  required  her  attention,  gladly  availed  herself 
of  the  proffered  home  ;  hoping  that  new  scenes  would 
ease  a  little  the  sharpness  of  her  age  nizing  grief. 

Ilattie,  poor,  stricken  little  gir^,  liad  been  sent  the 
previous  year  to  the  school  from   which  Berrie   had 
14 


314    CHANOES-^BEREAVEMENT- A   NEW  HOME. 

graduated,  and  to  which  she  returned  after  the  death 
of  her  mother,  and  the  breaking  up  of  the  old  hom« 
which  had  been  so  dear  to  them  all.  Berrie  wonl4 
gladly  have  kept  her  with  her,  but  knew  it  was  best  ehe 
ihould  continue  the  studies  so  sadly  broken  off,  and 
sent  her  back  with  many  loving  words  and  regrets. 

She  had,  of  course,  transmitted  the  sad  tidings  to 
her  brother  and  sister  over  the  water,  but  they  were 
wandering  about  so,  it  was  doubtful  when  they  would 
receive  them,  and  she  had  no  hope  of  their  immediate 
return. 

Thus  she  settled  down  in  her  new  home  as  content- 
edly as  possible,  but  with  many  a  dreary  heart-ache  ioi 
the  lost  loved  ones — her  dear  father  and  mother  lying 
still  and  cold  under  the  chill  November  snows,  her 
absent  sister  and  brother,  and  her  far  away  lover, 
whose  image  was  still  bright  in  her  heart,  but  who 
seemed  as  lost  to  her  as  if  the  sods  of  an  ItaliM 
churchyard  lay  green  above  his  grave. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

OLD   AND   NEW   7B1ENDB. 

"  But  ever  and  anon,  of  griefs  snbdned, 
There  comes  a  token  like  a  scorpion's  stingr. 
Scarce  seen,  but  with  fresh  bitterness  imbued ; 
And  slight  withal  may  be  the  things  that  bring 
Back  on  the  heart  the  weight  which  it  would  fllnif 
Aside  forever." 

LOBD  BTBOK 


^ERRIE,  there  is  a  lady  downstairs  that  wishei 
to  see  you,"  said  Annie  Mitchell,  bounding 
unceremoniously  into  her  cousin's  room  one 
ftftemoou  about  six  weeks  later.  "  She  is  real  pretty 
and  queenly  looking,  cousin,  and  very  handsomely 
dteseed.    Will  you  go  right  down  ? " 

"  Why  yes,  I  suppose  so  ;  but  didn't  she  send  up  her 
card  ?    How  came  you  to  see  her,  dear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  was  practising  in  the  parlor,  and  I  thought 
when  the  bell  rang  it  was  Jennie  Adams  to  see  me, 
Bo  I  just  ran  to  the  door  myself.  Ma  would  scold,  I 
suppose,  if  she  knew  it,"  and  she  laughed  and  Bhmgged 
her  «houlder8  mischievously. 
*"  Berrie,  how  pretty  you  look  in  that  white  crape 


f  1^3  OLD  Aim   NEW  FRTBNDB. 

oli»r  and  bow,"  and  she  threw  her  arm  ai^und  tli« 
leck  of  the  girl  who  had  not  yet  arisen  from  her  chuir 

"  Well,  don't  spoil  the  effect  then,  Annie  dear,  by 
flauBsing  it  all  up,"  she  returned  laughing. 

"  No,  I  won't  1 "  smoothing  it  out.  "  There  I  it  ii 
good  as  new.  It  is  ever  so  much  more  becoming  than 
that  horrid  black." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it  is.  There  isn't  contraat  enough 
in  that,"  smiling.  "  You  did  not  tell  me,  ^.nnie,  ii 
you  asked  the  lady  for  her  card." 

"  Yes,  I  asked  her,  but  she  said  she  had  foivotten 
her  card-case,  and  I  was  to  tell  you  that  it  vas — let 
me  see !  now  what  was  that  name  I  Mrs. — Mrs. — Carle 
ton  ?  do  you  know  any  such  person,  Berrie  ? " 

"  Carleton  ? "  said  Berrie,  musingly.  "  I  don't 
know  that  I  do,  Annie.  Wasn't  it  Carlisle  ? "  as  » 
Budden  thought  struck  her. 

"  Oh  yes,  that  was  it.  I  knew  it  was  something 
of  that  kind.  What  a  forgetful  little  ninny  I  am,  to 
be  sure  1 "  laughing.  "  Say,  Ben-ie,  how  do  you  like 
Mr.  Hanson  ?  you  saw  him  last  night,  didn't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him,  but  scarcely  long  enough  to  say 
how  I  like  him ;  he  seems  very  pleasant." 

"  Yes,  he  is ;  what  a  contrast  he  would  be  to  Cad  in 
that  1  But  I  know  he  thought  you  just  charming!  " 
ahe  continued  archly :  "  for  Cad  was  telling  Ma  thii 
morning,  that  it  was  juflt  as  she  knew  it  would  be,  he 
was  completely  carried  away  with  you." 

"  Nonsense,  Annie  I  he  had  no  reason  to  t>e,  I  aa 
•ure ;  I  scarcely  spoke  to  him,"  returned  Benie,  look- 
ing unmistakably  vexed. 


OLD  AND  ITEW  FRIENDB,  817 

**Now,  cousin,  you  are  cross  1  I  didn't  i'^wu;  to  ^ex 
^ou;  won't  you  kiss  and  make  r^p?"  ard  with  her 
Erms  around  her  cousin's  waist — fcr  they  w^  :e  nearly 
sf  a  height — she  pouted  her  rosy  "dps  for  the  desired 
token  of  forgiveness. 

Berrie  laughed  as  she  kissed  the  merry  girl,  and  re- 
turned, "  I  couldn't  be  vexed  with  you  for  very  long, 
if  I  should  try,  little  cousin.  I  only  felt  annoyed  to 
know  that  Carrie  had  one  more  cause  for  disliking  me. 
1  hope  I  sha'n't  see  Mr.  Hanson  very  soon  again.  But 
I  must  go  down,  dear ;  what  will  Helen  think  of  me  ? '' 

"Who,  Berrie?" 

"  Mrs.  Carlisle,  my  old  school-friend,  Helen.  Won't 
you  oome  down  and  see  her,  Annie  ? "  as  the  young 
girl,  after  walking  part  way  downstairs  with  her  hand 
in  her  cousin's  arm,  turned  to  go  back. 

"Oh  nol  Ma  wouldn't  like  me  to.  Good-by, 
Berrie !  "  and  she  sat  down  on  the  stairs,  and  watched 
her  companion's  receding  form,  until  the  trailing  black 
dress  disappeared  through  the  parlor  doors. 

The  young  girl  was  a  very  ardent  admirer  of  her 
"  pretty  cousin,"  as  she  called  her,  and  Berrie  loved 
her  very  dearly,  turning  with  pleasure  to  her  lively 
chat,  from  the  sneera  and  disagreeable  manner  of  her 
sister,  who  could  not  forgive  her  for  coming  into  the 
tamily,  and  did  her  best  to  make  her  unhappy. 

"  Oh,  Helen,  this  is  an  unexpected  pleasure  I  I  am 
«o  glad  to  see  you." 

"Glad?  I  should  think  so,  when  you  have  been 
here  for — 1  dor't  know  how  long,  ard  never  carae  to 
■ee  me." 


«18  OLD  A2fD  NEW  FRIENDS. 

"I  had  forgotten  your  address,  and  diJi't  cnom 
where  to  go." 

"  Well,  couldn't  you  look  in  the  directory  and  find 
U?" 

"  Of  course  I  could  I  what  a  simpleton  I  am  1  I 
never  once  thought  of  that.  But  how  did  you  know  I 
was  here  ? " 

"  I  saw  Ned  Lester  the  other  day,  and  he  told  me." 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  out  there  once,  but  it  seems  so 
odd  not  to  have  Maud  there,  that  I  could  not  enjoy  it." 

"  When  are  they  coming  back  ? " 

"  Maud  and  Charlie  ?  I  don't  know.  I  haven't 
heard  from  them  since — since — 1  sent  them  the  news." 

"  Oh,  Berrie,  how  my  heart  ached  for  you  1  I  am 
80  sorry  for  you ;  far,  far  more  than  I  can  say,"  said 
Helen,  tenderly,  as  Berrie  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  for  a  moment ;  but  only  for  a  moment.  She 
was  becoming  accustomed  to  bear  her  grief  alone,  and 
not  intrude  its  expression  on  others. 

Iler  face  was  very  pale,  and  her  lips  quivered  pite- 
ously  as  she  removed  her  hands,  and  answered  :  "  Yes 
Helen,  I  know  you  are  ;  but  after  all  you  cannot  real- 
ize half  how  hard  it  is.  We  had  such  a  pleasant; 
pleasant  home." 

"  I  know  it,  Berrie,  I  know  it  I  Where  is  Hattie  %  " 
•fter  a  pause. 

"At  the  old  seminary,  Helen;  she  has  been  there  *or 
A  year.     Poor  little  girl,  she  is  very  lonely,  I  expect." 

"  What  a  pity  Belle  isn't  home  1  How  is  her  hea'tb 
now?  any  better?" 

"  Yes,  it  was,  somewhat,  when  she  wrote  last,  aii4 


OLD  AJTD  NEW   FRIENDS.  3^9 

she  thought  the  winter  in  the  south  of  France  would 
quite  restore  her." 

"  She  will  be  likely  to  come  home  earlier,  now,  will 
flhe  not  ? " 

"I  think  not,  no  1  I  wrote  her  that  I  was  very  com- 
fortable, and  not  to  hasten  home  mtil  she  could  do  so 
with  impunity.  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  Charli* 
and  Maud  returned  at  once,  however." 

"  I  hope  they  will,  I  am  sure ;  you  would  not  feel 
quite  so  desolate.  But  it  is  nearly  five  o'clock,"-  - 
glancing  at  the  jewelled  watch  in  her  belt,  as  she  arose 
— "  and  I  must  go,  Berrie.     We  dine  early." 

"  Oh  don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Helen  ;  I  have  a  worla  of 
things  to  say  to  you  yet." 

"  And  I  to  you,  Berrie  ;  but  I  must  go  now.  Come 
and  spend  the  day  with  me  to-morrow,  can't  you  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  know  of  nothing  to  prevent,  and  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  do  so.  I  suppose  you  are  very 
pleasantly  situated  now,  Queenie  1 " 

"  Well,  yes,  rather  1  for  a  quondam  school-ma'am,^ 
ehe  laughed. 

"  And  how  about  the  books  ?  " 

"  Oh  we'll  talk  about  all  those  things  to-morrow. 
Good-by,  dear ! "  and  kissing  her  warmly,  the  happy, 
queenly  woman  swept  away. 

TliJ  same  evening,  towards  nine  o'clock,  Berrie  wai 
Bitting  in  her  own  pleasant  room,  endeavoring  to  writo 
aorae  letters,  which  was  a  rather  slow  and  arduous 
task,  as  her  little  cousin  Annie  sat  on  a  hassock  at  her 
feet,  talking  constantly  to  her.  There  were  vjsitora 
below,  and  Beirie  had  been  pressed  by  her  aunt,  and 


520  OLD  AND  NEW  FR1END&. 

coidlj  invited  by  Miss  Carrie  to  come  down,  bnt  had 
decidedly  declined  both  invitations. 

"  Well,  chatter-box  !  "  smiling,  and  tenderiy  etroking 
the  dark  head  laid  in  her  lap,  while  the  laughing  eyet 
irei-e  fixed  on  her  face,  "  when  do  you  suppose  I  shall 
finish  my  letters  ? " 

"  Oh,  Berrie,  do  you  want  to  send  a>e  o£E  ?  Never 
mind  your  letters,  they  are  not  of  half  so  much  conae- 
quence  as  I  am,"  laughing. 

"  You  have  very  exalted  ideas  of  your  value,  haven't 
you,  little  cousin  ? "  smiled  Berrie.  "  I  don't  want  to 
send  you  off,  but  1  must  finish  my  letters  to-night,  as 
the  European  mail  closes  to-morrow,  and  I  have  an 
engagement  for  the  day." 

"  For  all  day,  Berrie « " 

"Yes,  dear." 

"  Oh  dear,  I  shall  be  fearfully  lonely  without  you 
Come  home  early,  won't  you  ? " 

"  I  can't  promise.  But  what  will  you  do  when  I  go 
away  entirely,  if  you  can't  spare  me  for  a  day  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  go.  What  a  pretty 
Hng,  Berrie  !  did  your  papa  give  it  to  you  ?  "  slipping 
it  round  and  round  on  the  finger  of  the  hand  she  held ; 
for  though  Berrie  had  given  up  her  lover  as  lost  to 
her,  she  could  not  put  away  what  was  so  dear  to  her 
tts  his  parting  gift  had  long  become.  Three  years  had 
©lapsed  since  he  went  away,  and  she  often  wondered 
if  his  absence  was  to  be  extended  to  five,  as  he  had 
tliunght  possible.  Slie  still,  half  unconsciously,  cher- 
ished a  faint  hope  that  when  he  should  return,  tht 
cliaria  of  the  past  might  be  renewed,  and  she  might 


OLD  Alflf  ITMW  fMIMMJm,  |tt 

•f«n  j«t  twU  the  iwo«U  of  "bop«*t  iraition."  At 
present  her  life  seemed  to  have  come  to  an  end. 
Nothing  in  the  present  to  brighten  it,  nothing  in  the 
future  to  look  forward  to.  Life  ia  ead  indeed  when, 
to  a  heart  so  joong,  it  holds  nothing  to  hope  for  or  an- 
ticipate. 

She  colored  rosUj  at  her  couain'i  question,  and  re- 
turned :  "  No,  dear ;  Pa  gave  me  my  watch  and  chain, 
but  not  this.  A  friend  fttf  over  the  water  gave  mt 
this  as  a  parting  gift,"  and  the  proud  lips  quivered  a 
little  as  she  thought  of  that  day,  so  happy  in  spit©  of 
the  pain  of  parting  with  one  she  loved  with  her  wholt 
warm,  true  heart. 

The  sharp  eyes  of  the  young  girl  noticed  the  riling 
color  and  trembling  lips,  and  drew  her  own  conclu- 
sions ;  but  with  a  delicacy  that  many  an  older  member 
of  her  sex  would  not  have  shown,  laid  her  cheek  on  the 
little  hand  she  held,  and  said  no  more.  Berrie  resumed 
her  writing  with  the  other  hand,  and  there  was  silence 
for  a  few  moments,  which  was  broken  at  length  by  a 
low  tap  at  the  door. 

"Come  inl"  called  Be^iie,  and  a  ierrant  entered 
and  presented  her  a  card,  on  which  WM  «ngrav«d  "  Ned 
Lester." 

"  Is  the  gentleman  waiting  f  '^  ibe  ioked. 

"  He  is,  mum  I " 

«  Well,  I  will  be  down  directly." 

"With  the  card  in  her  hand,  Annie  iprang  np,  ex- 
claiming laughingly:  "Bother  Nod  Lester  I  I  wiih 
he  had  staid  away." 

"I  wouldn't  use  such  a  word,  Annie;  it  imi  ledjr- 
14* 


I9S  <ii^  ^^D  NEW  FRIBNLA. 

like,"  as  she  put  away  her  writing,  and  went  to  bei 
mirror  to  make  Bome  alterations  in  her  toilet. 

"  I  know  it  isn't  elegant,"  she  laughed,  ^  but  it'»  veij 
expressive  Bometimes,  and  Mr.  Ned  Lester  has  lost  me 
mj  pretty  cousin  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening." 

"  Well,  it  is  nearly  time  my  pretty  cousin  was  in  bed. 
Good  night,  Annie  dear  1 "  and  kissing  her  she  left  the 
room. 

Ned  Lester  was  his  old  gay  self,  although  a  little  lew 
•aucy  in  the  presence  of  strangers.  Mr.  Hanson,  a 
fine  looking  man  of  some  thirty-five  years,  was  also 
present,  and  two  or  three  other  guests,  to  whom  Berrie 
had  been  previously  introduced.  Ned  made  room  for 
her  on  the  sofa  where  he  was  sitting,  and  as  she  took 
the  proffered  seat,  she  noticed  with  annoyance  that  Mr. 
Hanson  was  next  her  on  the  other  side.  Miss  Carrie 
noted  it  also,  and  frowned  and  bit  her  haughty  lipa 
with  vexation. 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  Maud  to-day  1 "  Ned  re- 
marked after  a  little. 

"Lideed  1  I  was  just  writing  to  her.  Had  they  r©* 
oeived  my  late  letters  ? " 

"  Yes,  they  had  just  arrived,  and  Charlie  was  writiiig 
to  you  by  the  same  mail.     Haven't  you  received  it  ?" 

"Nol" 

"  You  should  have  had  it  to-day,  but  it  will  be  d©- 
iirered  to-morrow,  doubtless." 

"  Did  they  say  anything  about  toraing  home  f  " 

"  Yes,  Maud  thought  they  should  come  by  the  next 
iteamer,  if  the  Aveather  was  not  too  severe,  and  Mn 
Wright  waa  well  enough  to  leave." 


OLD  AND  NEW  FJHSNDA  S98 

**  W^»8  she  worse  ? "  asked  Berne  quickly,  in  alarm. 

"No,  not  materially,  I  think.  Natural y  she  »nd 
Oharlie  were  both  greatly  shocked  and  griev  Bd  at  the 
•ad  ne'^RTB,  and  your  sister  was  not  as  well  in  coqm 
quence." 

"  How  glad  I  shall  be  when  they  are  all  at  home 
once  more  1 " 

"  Yes,  so  shall  1 1  for  your  sake,  particularly,  Berrie. 
I  imagine  by  the  looks  of  your  fair  cousin  over  there, 
that  it  is  not  especially  pleasant  for  you  here,"  he 
added  in  a  low  tone. 

Mr.  Hanson  heard  the  remark,  low  as  it  was  tittered, 
and  listened  breathlessly  for  the  reply. 

"  Indeed  it  is  not  I  " 

"By  the  way,"  Ned  continued,  "Maud  mentioned 
meeting  your  old  friend,  Charlie  Anderson.  He  has 
remained  abroad  a  long  time,  has  he  not  1 " 

"  Yes,  he  went  the  fall  Belle  was  married.  People 
must  find  it  very  charming  over  there,  I  think,"  she 
added  a  little  bitterly,  playing  with  the  glittering  ring 
on  her  finger,  "  as  they  all  seem  loth  to  return." 

"  Anderson  was  a  good  fellow,"  Ned  went  on,  "  and 
re  had  a  pleasant  time  that  summer  in  Bristol." 

Berrie's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  they  always  did  at 
mention  of  the  old  happy  days,  and  Mr.  Hanson's 
heart  throbbed  sympathetically,  although  he  made  no 
attemi)t  to  take  part  in  the  conversation. 

"  It  seems  sometimes,  Ned,"  she  answered  slowly, 
"that  those  were  the  last  of  my  pleasant  times.  I 
have  had  nothing  but  anxiety  and  grief  since." 

"  I  know  you  have  been  fearfully  tried,  Berrie,  brt 


J34  ^^  ^^^  ^^^  FRISimA 

yon  mutt  look  forward  to  a  good  time  coming.  When 
Charlie  and  Wright  get  back,  things  will  be  changed, 
and  we'll  have  some  pleasant  times  yet  WonH  yon 
sing  for  me,  Berriel "  he  added,  hoping  to  divert  h« 
mind. 

"Oh,  not  to-night,  Ned;  I  wonld  rather  not  1 
scarcely  ever  sing  now." 

"  The  more  reason  why  yon  should.  Come,  ploMe, 
Berrie." 

Berne  was  undecided,  and  Mr.  Hanson  tnmod  to 
her  and  said :  "  Miss  Burton,  let  me  add  my  entreatiei 
to  Mr.  Lester's  that  you  would  favor  us." 

Mrs.  Mitchell,  sitting  near,  overheard  a  part  of  tha 
conversation,  and  turned  to  Berrie,  with,  "Do  yon 
sing,  my  dear?  Oblige  ub,  won't  youl"  and  Berri« 
reluctantly  consented  to  be  led  to  the  piano. 

She  had  never  sung  since  becoming  a  member  of 
her  aunt's  family,  fearing  that  her  accomplishments  in 
music  would  be  another  source  of  annoyance  to  her 
jealous  cousin. 

"  I  am  somewhat  out  of  practice,"  she  remarked,  aa 
she  turned  over  the  loose  sheets  of  music ;  "  I  have  not 
played  any  since  I  came  to  Boston.  Can  yon  turn  th« 
music,  Ned  1 " 

"  Yes,  if  yen  let  me  know  when.  I  couldn't  read  th« 
first  note,"  he  returned,  laughingly. 

"  Allow  me  I  *'  said  Mi.  Hanson,  stepping  to  hei  side. 

The  piece  she  had  placed  on  the  rack  was, "  I  cannot 
Sing  the  Old  Songs,"  then  comparatively  new,  and  she 
sang  the  appropriate  words  very  feelingly,  and  ax^nia- 
itely,  as  she  did  erwy  thing. 


OLD  AND  NEW  FRIENLB.  325 

Her  couiin  cou.d  have  bitten  her  tongue  off,  with 
eiivj  and  vexation  ;  but,  hoping  to  anncy  the  perform- 
er, rudely  talked  and  laughed  constantly,  apparently 
taking  no  notice  of  the  music. 

Mr.  Hanson  was  more  disgusted  than  he  cared  to 
show,  although  his  thanks  were  a  trifle  more  warmly 
expressed  than  they  might  otherwise  have  been.  He 
was  deeply  interested  in  the  pale,  quiet  girl,  dressed  in 
such  heavy  mourning,  and  carrying  in  her  face  traces 
that  the  grief  lay  deeper  than  the  sable  robes  which 
draped  her  rounded  girlish  form.  He  had  been 
amused  at  Carrie  Mitchell's  manoeuvres  to  win  his  atten- 
tion, and  thinking  her  a  good-natured,  entertaining 
girl,  had  visited  her  rather  more  than  was  consistent 
with  the  indifference  of  his  feelings  toward  her.  But 
the  sneering  manner  with  which  she  had  received  hia 
expressions  of  admiration  for  her  lovely  cousin,  had 
first  opened  his  eyes  to  her  true  character,  and  her 
conduct  this  evening  completed  his  disgust  and  con- 
tempt for  her.  Henceforward  Miss  Carrie  was  not  the 
attraction  which  drew  him  to  the  house. 

As  they  resumed  their  seats  after  the  music,  Mr. 
Hanson  inquired :  "  Have  you  seen  the  new  painting 
on  exhibition  at  "Williams  and  Everetts,  Miss  Burt>nl 
Boston  is  going  wild  over  it." 

"I  have  not;  no,  what  is  it?"  she  returned.  "I 
have  been  so  secluded  1  know  nothing  of  what  is  going 
on." 

"  It  is  called  '  Holly  Berries.'  I  have  not  teen  it 
myself  as  yet." 

"^  Who  is  the  artist? "  she  asked. 


326  OLD  JJTD  NEW  FRIENDS. 

"I  have  forgotten  the  name.  An  Amercan  gentl»- 
man  resident  at  Home,  I  think.  1  should  to  moei 
happy  to  take  you  to-morrow,  if  you  will  honor  me  by 
accepting  of  my  escort,"  he  continued. 

Berrie  was  annoyed,  knowing  how  her  cousm  would 
feel,  did  she  know  of  it,  and  was  very  thankful  she 
could  decline  with  thanks,  on  the  plea  of  a  previoua 
engagement. 

"  At  any  other  time,  then,  which  will  suit  your  con- 
venience," he  persisted. 

"  Yery  well,"  she  returned,  seeing  no  way  of  escape 
without  positive  rudeness.  "  I  will  accept  your  invita- 
tion for  Thursday,  if  that  will  be  convenient  for  you." 

"  Perfectly  I "  he  returned.  "  At  what  hour, 
please  ? " 

"  Oh  about  eleven,  I  think,"  and  turning  to  Ned,  she 
said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  Ask  ray  cousin,  Ned,  and  go  with 
us,  dol" 

Ned  knew  by  her  look  and  tone  that  his  compliance 
with  her  wish  was  of  moment  to  her,  and  therefore  did 
not  hesitate  to  do  as  she  required.  He  remarked  aloud, 
smiling :  "  Mr.  Hanson  has  forestalled  me,  Berrie,  and 
I  will  ask  your  cousin  and  accompany  you  if  agree- 
able." 

Mr.  Hanson  could  do  nothing  less  than  bow  his 
pleasure  in  the  arrangement,  although  he  would  much 
have  preferred  that  the  unamiable  young  lady  referred 
to  had  been  left  behind. 

Miss  Carrie,  althougn  vexed  that  Mr.  Hanson  should 
hav*  invited  her  cousin  instead  ^f  herself,  was  yet 
loawwhat  mollified  when  "that  gay  Ned  Letter"  to 


OLD  AJfD  NEW  FRIENDS.  827 

gallantly  requested  her  to  honor  him  with  her  com- 
pany  on  the  same  occasion. 

Therefore  it  was  settled  much  more  agreeably  thiw 
Berrie  could  have  hoped,  and  the  gentlemen  look  th«b 

^pftrtUTA. 


CHAPTER  XXVX 

▲   DAY   OUT REMUnSCEKOBBl 

**  None  ar«  ro  desolate  bnt  something  dear. 
Dearer  than  self,  possesses  or  possessed 
A  thought,  and  claims  the  homage  of  a  tear.** 

Lord  Btboh. 

HAT  a  pretty  rooml"  and  Berrie  paused  on 
^^1^  the  threshold  of  Helen's  study,  to  which  Mrs. 
'^^b^  Harrington  had  invited  her.  It  opened  by 
sliding  glass  doors  from  the  side  of  the  handsome 
back-p&rior,  and  was,  as  Berrie  had  said,  a  very  pretty 
rcom  ;  not  so  much  for  what  it  contained,  as  for  the 
cozy,  home-like  look  of  its  arrangement.  Th<*  carpet 
which  covered  the  floor  matched  those  on  thf  parlors, 
Although  somewhat  smaller  in  figure ;  lace  curtaing 
fell  inside  the  low,  balconied  windows,  in  whose  re- 
cesses stood  stands  of  trailing  plants;  a  bright  fire 
burned  in  the  grate  at  one  side  ;  a  marble-top  table 
in  the  centre  of  the  room  was  piled  with  books,  while 
carved  racks  stood  in  every  available  place,  loaded 
vvith  handsomely  bound  volumes,  and  pictures  oi^vered 
the  wallB,  many  of  them  small  and  of  little  yalue,  save 


A  LAY  OUT-IiEMmmCENOBS.  329 

for  their  asftociations,  or  as  sonvenirs  of  friendeliip  or 
travel.  Near  one  of  the  windows  was  a  ha»?d8om« 
writing-desk,  whereon  lay  a  pile  of  closely  written 
manuscript,  and  an  easy  study-chair  was  drawn  doeelj 
before  it. 

Helen  laughed  contentedly  at  Berrie's  exclamation. 
"  Yes,  as  I  told  you  yesterday,  it  will  do  for  a  quondam 
Bchool-ma'am  that  hadn't  a  cent  to  her  name.  But 
come  in  and  sit  down  I "  she  continued,  as  Berrie  still 
stood  on  the  threshold.  "Hei^e,  take  this  rocker  by 
the  fire ; "  and  Berrie  sat  down  in  the  chair  designated. 

"  I  should  think  you  might  write  here." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  so  too.  I  have  a  couple  of 
pretty  good  servants.  Ma  is  with  me,  and  manages  the 
house  ;  and  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  be  as  lazy  as  I 
please." 

"  Which  you  are  not  pleased  to  be  always,  to  judge 
from  that,"  and  she  pointed  to  the  heap  of  manuscript 
on  the  desk. 

"  No,  I  have  written  a  good  deal  for  the  past  year. 
That  is  no  task,  however,  but  a  pleasure,  rather." 

"  Have  you  published  anything  yet  ? " 

"  Not  as  yet ;  but  I  have  a  book  nearly  completed, 
which  a  publisher — a  friend  of  Mr.  Carlisle^'B — haa 
seen  and  made  me  an  offer  for." 

"  That  is  pleasant  I     I  hope  it  may  be  successful." 

"  I  hope  so  too  1 "  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 
"  Failure  would  finish  me  entirely.  I  could  not  write 
in  the  face  of  that" 

"I  suppose  yon  hare  a  good  critio  in  your  ha» 
band!'' 


330  A  DAT  Oin~  liBMimSGENOBB. 

"  Tee,  but  a  partial  ono,  I  tell  him.  I  should  tterer 
have  commenced  in  the  first  place  but  for  him." 

"  You  owe  him  a  great  deal." 

"  I  do,  indeed  I "  very  earnestly.  "  More  than  you 
«an  think.  Home,  comfort,  love,  happiness,  every- 
thing f  and  I  came  so  near  throwing  it  all  away  I  I 
often  think  wnat  a  foolish  girl  I  was." 

"  Why  ?  what  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  refused  him  at  first,  just  because  he  was  not 
rich  ;  and  if  I  hadn't  met  him  that  day  at  Mount  At>- 
burn,  I  might  be  still  drudging  at  school-teaching." 

"  Indeed  1  Well,  I  should  judge  he  wasn't  very 
badly  off,  to  look  at  your  house." 

"  No,  not  so  bad  as  it  might  be.  An  eccentric  old 
Mucle,  who  had  seen  how  rents  eat  up  an  income,  left 
Mr.  Carlisle  a  small  legacy,  on  condition  that  he  should 
use  it  in  purchasing  and  furnishing  a  house  when  he 
should  marry,  and  not  to  be  touched  for  any  other 
purpose:  virtually,  a  wedding  present.  He  has  a 
small  property  besides,  and  his  salary  is  very  good  now. 
'  The  lines  have  fallen  to  me  in  pleasant  places,'  Ber- 
rie,  more  pleasant  than  I  deserve,  or  had  any  reason  to 
expect." 

"  I  am  very  glad,  I  am  sure,  Queenie.  The  three 
years  since  we  left  school  have  brought  many  changes," 
and  she  glanced  sadly  at  the  sable  robes  which  swept 
the  handsome  carpet. 

"  Yes.  Little  Lillie,  who  waa  so  fond  of  me — you 
remember  her — has  been  a  year  in  heaven  ;  Annie  ia 
married  and  gone  south  ;  Rose  is  travelling  in  Europe. 
I  am  fts  happy  as  the  day  is  long     You  haTe  watched 


A  DAT  0UT-REMIN13OEN0E8.  831 

tLe  spoiling  of  your  houseliol  3  idols,  and  sit  her*  sad- 
der than  jour  gloomy  robes,  and  Maud  ia  your  sister 
now.  Who  would  have  thought  it  in  the  old  school- 
days?" 

"  Wlio,  indeed  1 "  and  a  few  bright  tears  fell  frcia 
the  brimming  eyes. 

"  I  remember  I  used  to  envy  you  then,  your  futuw^ 
looked  so  very  bright,"  continued  Helen ;  "  and  that  1  j 
expressed  it  on  the  very  morning  of  exhibition,  when! 
some  of  us  girls  sat  out  in  the  grove,  assorting  flowers' 
for  our  hair ;  and  that  Maud  said,  reprovingly,  that 
wealth  and  beauty  did  not  always  bring  happiness,  and 
that  my  lot  might  be  even  more  enviable  than  yours. 
I  could  not  believe  it  then." 

"  Oh,  Ned  Lester  called  to  see  me  last  evening,  and 
said  he  had  just  received  a  letter  from  Maud.  They 
thought  they  should  return  on  the  next  steamer." 

"  They  had  heard  the  news,  then?" 

"  Yes ;  just  received  it.  I  suppose  I  shall  find  a  let- 
ter from  Charlie  at  home  to-night,  as  Maud  said  he 
was  writing." 

"  What  a  shock  it  must  have  been  to  them  1 " 

"  Yes.  Belle  was  not  as  well,  in  consequence,  when 
Maud  wrote." 

"  She  is  not  coming  back  at  present,  then  ? " 

"  No,  not  until  Spring.  I  shall  be  so  glad  when  fiL» 
gets  home  ,  it  is  not  pleasant  at  aunt's." 

"  No  ?  That  was  a  nice  littlfe  girl  that  camt  to  the 
door  yesterday." 

"  Oh,  Annie  ?  Yes,  she  is  a  darling,  and  il  it  wat 
not  for  Ler  I  couldn't  9t»7.     A-untie  ia  very  kind  bj»t 


839  A  DAT  OUT-  RElimiSCENOES. 

Carrie  is  lo  jealous  of  me,  that  she  makes  both  herself 
aud  me  miserable.  It  is  not  much  like  my  eld  dear 
home." 

"  I  suppose  you  still  keep  the  place  in  Bristol  ? " 

"Oh  yesl  I  couldn't  part  with  that  I  pretonM 
we  will  spend  our  summers  there." 

"  Berrie,"  said  Helen  suddenly,  after  a  slight  pause, 
*'  I  should  think  you  and  Ned  Lester  might '  make  a 
match.' " 

"  Oh,  Ned  is  like  a  brother  to  me — nothing  more.'* 

"  But  I  think  he  likes  you." 

"  Yes,  as  I  do  him ;  in  no  other  way." 

"  Ned  is  a  good  fellow." 

"  lie  is,  indeed !  He  seems  more  like  a  brother 
than  ever  since  Maud  married  Charlie.  By  the  way, 
Ned  said  that  Maud  wrote  they  had  met  Charlie  An- 
derson.    You  remember  him,  don't  you,  Queenie  ? " 

"  Certainly  I  do !  Do  you  know,  I  always  thought 
he  was  another  of  your  victims  ? "  laughingly. 

Berrie  did  not  laugh  in  return,  but  looked  down 
without  reply. 

"  Berrie,"  Helen  continued  after  a  moment,  "  what 
Is  the  secret  of  your  coolness  to  all  these  eligible  young 
gentlemen  ? " 

"Al  exceedingly  cold  heart,  I  expect  1"  laughing 
with  a  little  embarrassment. 

"  A  heart  already  given  away,  I  #w*pect,"  returned 
Helen  mischievously. 

"  I  told  Ned  last  night  I  was  coming  here  to-day, 
and  he  said  he  would  come  around  this  evening  and 
take  me  home,"  said  Berrie  irrelevantly,  to  turn  tht 


A  DAY  ouT-ssMmmcmirowB,  mi 


eonvenatioii,  adding  immediately:  *  Hav9   yon 

the  new  pictnre  WilliamB  &  Everett  have  cm  ejiaibl- 

tion?" 

"No.  * Holiy-beiriea,*  isn't  it?  My  hnaband  waa 
speaking  yesterday  abont  taking  me  to  see  it." 

"  I  am  going  to-morrow." 

«  With  Ned  t " 

"No.  Mr.  Hanson,  a  friend  of  my  coniiii.  N«d 
invited  her." 

The  day  passed  away  very  pleasantly,  and  another 
visit  was  promised  speedily.  Ned  Lester  came  aromid 
in  the  evening,  per  engagement,  and  took  her  home. 
She  fomid  Annie  waiting  for  her  in  her  room. 

"  Yon  see  I  took  possession  in  your  absence,"  she 
Raid  laughing,  as  Berrie  entered  the  room.  "  Welcome 
home.  Miss  Burton ! "  and  she  took  her  cousin's  arm 
and  led  her  to  the  easy-chair  by  the  fire,  removing  the 
girl's  hat  and  cloak  as  she  talked  gaily  to  her. 

Crossing  the  room,  she  returned  in  a  moment  with 
both  hands  behind  her,  laughing  archly,  as  she  ex- 
claimed :  "  Which  will  you  have,  my  pretty  cousin,  the 
right  or  left  ?  and  what  will  you  give  me  for  either  ? " 

'•'  Oh,  I'll  have  the  right,  and  give  yon  a  penny  to 
buy  Bugar-plums." 

"  How  very  generous  you  are,  Berrie,  for  an.  heir- 
ess," she  laughed,  presenting  the  right  hand,  and  with 
it  an  exquisite  bouquet  of  tea-roses  and  heliotrope. 

"  Thank  you,  Annie  dear.    How  lovely  *hey  are  I " 

"  From  your  ardent  admirer,  Mr.  Harson,"  laugb-^d 
the  mischievous  girl.  "You  have  made  an  impreeaioTt, 
•ure,  Miss  Barton." 


184  A  DAT  CUT-UEMINiaCENOSa. 

"I  think  Mr.  Htnson  presumes.  I  should  piiM 
them  much  more  highly  had  they  been  given  me  bjr 
my  dear  little  cousin,  as  I  thought." 

'*  Would  yon,  truly  \  How  kind  you  are  1 "  and  ike 
kissed  the  lips  whose  warm  expression  had  pleased  and 
gratified  her  so  much. 

"Kind,  because  I  love  my  little  cousin  who  ii  so 
kind  to  me  ? "  said  Berrie  in  return,  adding :  "  But  I 
hope  your  sister  did  not  know  of  this  ?  " 

"  No  1  she  was  out,  and  I  took  it  myself  and  brought 
it  right  up  here.  But  I  have  something  else  for  you, 
Berrie  ;  what  will  you  give  for  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  anything  you  demand,  dear ;  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  be  extravagant.    "What  would  you  like  ? " 
"  To  sleep  with  you  to-night.     May  I,  cousin  ? " 
"  Certainly  you  may  !     I  would  like  you  to,  much." 
"  Oh,  thank  you,  Berrie  1  and  here  is  your  letter." 
"Oh  yes,  I  expected  that!"  and  while  the  young 
girl  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  her  chair,  with  her  arm 
around  her  neck,  she  broke  the  seals,  and  with  stream- 
ing eyes  read  her  brother's  letter,  written  under  the 
fint  shock  of  bereavement,  the  first  pressure  of  bitter, 
heart-rending  grief. 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

fHX  BIGNTFIOANT  PAINTINO — EESTOBtD  OONFTOElVaB. 

"What  find  I  here? 
Fair  Portia's  connterf  eit  ?    What  detiri-god 
Hath  come  bo  neax  creation  V* 

SHAKIPBAmm 


"  How  all  comes  back  t — thing  aftrr  thiing 
The  old  life  o'er  me  throngs." 

Owen  Mkbsdits. 


H Y,  Berrie  !  it  is  your  very  self  1 " 
^^  "  It  is,  indeed,  Mies  Biuton  ;  pray  look  upl " 
^^10^  fell  respectively  from  the  IJps  of  Ned  Lester 
and  the  girl's  companion,  Mr.  Hanson,  as  the  four 
paused  before  the  important  picture  which  was  the  ob- 
ject of  their  visit. 

With  crimson  cheeks,  Berrie  turned  her  eves  from 
the  name  in  the  comer  —  "  E.  Adair,  Venice  "  —  on 
which  they  had  been  riveted,  to  see,  as  Ned  had  ex- 
pressed it,  her  very  self  standing  before  her. 

The  design  of  the  picture  was  exquisite,  the  execu- 
tion almost  perfect ;  and  as  Berrie  stepped  back  a  few 
pacee,  and  eat  down  to  contemplate  the  mastei  piece  of 


'886  THE  BIGNIFICANT  PAUn^INB. 

her  old-time  love,  notwithstanding  he  had  seemed  to 
desert  her,  her  heart  throbbed  with  fride,  and  a 
little  of  the  olden  pleasure,  to  say  nothing  of  th« 
happy  conscioufiness  of  which  the  picture  l)efore  her 
was  a  proof,  that  if  he  had  forsaken  her,  he  had  at 
least  not  foi^tten  her. 

The  picture  represented  a  New  England  scene,  \x, 
the  heart  of  a  spicj  wood,  whose  trees  were  oenturiei 
old.  Dim  aisles  of  the  pillared  trunks  stretched  off  in 
every  direction ;  rocks  covered  with  delicate  mosses 
were  piled  on  every  side ;  a  tiny  brooklet  rippled  and 
danced  over  the  huge  boulders  which  strewed  its  bed ; 
the  topmost  branches  of  the  trees  were  loaded  with 
snow,  patches  of  which  lay  white  in  every  direction ; 
and  in  the  foreground,  under  the  spreading  branches 
of  an  ancient  hemlock,  the  almost  life-size  figure  of 
the  lovely  girl,  in  a  scarlet  shawl  and  dark  trailing 
drees,  with  hat  in  hand,  a  face  bright,  sparkling,  be- 
witching, with  smiling  lips,  and  eyes  upturned  to  those 
of  the  man  who,  standing  a  little  back  of  her,  was  in 
the  act  of  placing  on  the  peerless,  drooping  curls,  a 
crown  of  dewy  holly-berries,  nestling  among  their 
prickly  and  shining  leaves  of  dark  green,  while  a  ray 
of  sunlight  struggling  through  the  thick  bianches, 
crowned  the  lovely  head  with  golden  glory.  The  face 
of  the  man  was  that  of  her  artist  friend ;  and  as  Berria 
looked  at  it,  all  the  past  rushed  in  an  instant  over  her 
heart,  and  she  bent  her  head,  and  shaded  her  crimson 
cheeks  with  her  hand,  longing  to  fly  from  her  oom- 
^•nioQs  and  hido  h«r  ^nseious  face  in  the  lileaioe  ti 
Imt  own  rooBL 


THB  AIONIFIOAyT  PAlNTntB,  881 

A^  little  in  the  rear  of  the  two  principal  figuree  wa« 
ft  group  of  gentlemen  and  ladies,  gathering  the  scarlet 
berries,  but  most  of  thorn  with  faces  turned  away. 

The  po«e  of  tiie  two  figures  in  the  foreground,  the 
witching  expression  on  the  upturned  face  of  the  girl, 
#nd  the  tender  look  in  the  soft  blue  eyes  of  the  man, 
M  he  bent  above  her,  crowning  her  with  the  gleaming 
scarlet  berries,  was  simply  perfect;  and  as  Berrie 
looked  at  it,  the  past  months  of  sorrow  seemed  but  a 
troubled  dream,  from  which  she  had  awakened  with 
renewed  love  and  trust  for  the  man  who  had  won  her 
heart  in  the  first  flush  of  her  happy,  innocent  girl- 
hood. 

Her  companions  of  course  could  but  note,  without 
wondering,  her  evident  agitation,  and  considerately 
left  her  to  herself  for  a  little  time.  A  few  momenta 
given  to  the  conscious  embarrassment  she  could  not  but 
feel,  to  the  retrospect  of  the  past,  which  crowded  on 
her  throbbing  heart,  and  though  her  cheeks  still  burned 
with  as  vivid  a  crimson  as  those  of  her  counterpart  in 
the  beautiful  painting  before  her,  she  forced  herself  to 
be  calm,  and  speak  gaily  of  the  picture  which  had  so 
Burprised  and  embarrassed  her. 

Stepping  a  little  forward  to  the  trio  that  was  still 
gazing  at  the  painting,  she  said,  laughingly,  "Ned, 
please  ascertain  if  the  picture  is  for  sale.  I  dos't 
think  I  like  to  be  exhibited  in  this  manner." 

Her  remark  was  the  signal  for  a  volley  of  questions, 
which  she  would  fain  have  refused  to  answer. 

"Who  is  the  gentleman,  Berrie t  hii  Uob 
familitf  to  me,"  ttdd  Ned. 


338  TSS  8I0NIFI0A2TT  PAIITTmO. 

"  Oh,  the  gentleman  is  the  utist  He  htt  paintod! 
himself  admirably. 

"  And  you  too  I  "  remarked  Mr.  Hanson,  tmiliiif  . 

"  And  a  friend  of  yours  f "  persisted  Ned. 

"  Yes  1  he  used  to  be." 

Ned  looked  in  the  comer  of  the  painting  and  read 
the  name.  "  Adair — Adair,"  he  said,  musingly — "  oh, 
I  remember,  the  gentleman  Mrs.  Malvern  was  talking 
of  in  Bristol ;  the  one  we  saw  at  Copeland's  on  a  cer- 
tain evening — eh,  Berrie  I "  and  Ned  looked  into  her 
eyes  mischievously. 

"  Well,  will  you  inquire  if  the  picture  if  for  tale, 
Ned  ? "  she  asked  hastily. 

Ned  walked  off,  and  Carrie  said:  "Adair!  that 
isn't  a  common  name.  I  wonder  if  it  is  the  one  Ma 
used  to  know  before  we  went  south.  I  forget  what 
his  first  name  was,  but  he  married  a  cousin  of  Fa's,  I 
believe,  and  she  was  killed  in  a  railway  accident  near 
Paris." 

"  Did  you  never  see  him  yourself  I "  asked  Berrie, 
in  the  indifferent  tone  she  always  used  to  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  but  I  was  so  young  I  do  not  remember  how 
he  looked.  I  think  that  might  be  him,  however,"  and 
•he  turned  to  the  painting  as  Mr.  Hanson  remarked : 
"  It  is  very  like  you,  Miss  Burton." 

"  Yes,  although  it  flatters  her  some,"  added  Cairie, 
a  little  spitefully. 

"  I  beg  to  differ  with  you ! "  returned  the  gentleman. 
**  I  tliink  it  scarcely  does  her  justice,  if  either,  although 
it  looki  a  little  mere  girlish  than  she  does  now.  I 
think  jTOQ  shoold  be  prcad,"  he  continued  to  Berrie 


TBB  BIGNIFWAirt  PAINTHrO.  839 

■  both  of  the  picture,  and  of  having  so  gifted  a  friend. 
It  is  exquisitely  executed." 

Berrie  was  painfully  embarrassed,  and  hardly  knew 
how  to  look  or  what  to  say,  feeling  at  the  same  tim* 
flattered  and  vexed  at  forming  the  subject  of  such  ft 
painting. 

Ned  returned,  after  a  few  moments  absence,  and  le- 
ported  that  the  picture  was  not  for  sale,  but  was  to  be 
retained  by  Messrs.  "Williams  and  Everett  until  the 
artist's  return.  Ere  that,  the  other  visitors  in  the 
room  had  begun  to  notice  and  remark  the  striking  re- 
semblance between  the  girl  and  the  picture,  and  Berrie 
begged  Mr.  Hanson  to  take  her  away. 

"  Why,  we  have  scarcely  glanced  at  any  other  piC' 
ture !  "  remonstrated  Carrie. 

"  Well,  you  can  stay  as  long  as  you  like,  but  I  must 
certainly  decline  remaining  longer,"  and  she  and  her 
companion  hastened  away. 

Mr.  Hanson  was  truly  kind  and  considerate,  and 
talked  pleasantly  to  her  on  subjects  foreign  to  that 
which  caused  her  so  much  embarrassment,  and  that  re- 
quired from  her  but  brief  and  infrequent  replies. 

With  thoughts  all  in  a  tumult,  she  reached  her  room 
at  last,  and  sat  down  before  her  ple^isant  fire,  to  muse 
upon  the  singular  event  that  had  occurred  to  her. 
She  scarcely  knew  for  a  time  what  were  the  predomi- 
nant feelings  in  her  mind ;  joy  in  the  knowledge 
that  he  still  thought  of  her,  pride  in  the  wondrous 
talent  of  her  artist  friend,  annoyance  at  being  thus 
publicly  exhibited,  hope  that  the  future  might  bring 
her  the  happiness   she  had  anticipated  in  the  first 


monthfl  of  their  eogagement,  or  the  old  inrginf  L»i« 
for  him,  pure,  and  strong,  and  sweet  as  ever. 

IIow  it  brought  back  all  the  past  to  her  heart  1 
Those  first  happy  days  of  their  acquaintance,  the  few 
long  weeks  of  torturing  doubt  she  had  endured,  the 
final  annihilation  of  all  uncertainty  and  perfect  reci- 
procity of  her  strong,  tender  love  for  him,  and  most  of 
all,  their  last  parting,  when  his  affection  for  her  had 
been  so  full  and  manifest. 

She  had  nothing  to  reproach  herself  with.  She  had 
been  true  as  steel  to  him  in  word,  thought,  and  deed, 
and  under  the  magic  of  that  tender  face,  though  only 
pictured,  the  old  trust  in  him  came  back,  sweetening 
the  memory  of  the  months  and  years  of  waiting  whick 
she  had  already  endured,  and  that  might  yet  be  in  store 
for  her.  Thinking  of  all  his  nobleness,  gentleness, 
honor,  she  could  not  doubt  his  truth.  He  had  loved 
her  as  he  thought  never  to  be  able  to  do  again,  to  use 
his  own  words ;  and  with  such  a  man  as  he,  love  wai 
no  light  thing.  Something  had  caused  his  silence- 
perhaps  he  meant  to  test  her  constancy,  of  which  h« 
had  confessed  ho  was  distrustful,  and  in  that  case,  h« 
•honld  find  she  had  been  worthy  of  all  the  trust  he 
could  have  reposed  in  her ;  that  through  abeence,  si- 
lence, seeming  coldness,  desertion  and  forgetfulness, 
she  could  still  be  true  to  her  own  heart,  and  the  lov« 
which  had  been  for  years  a  part  of  her  very  s-duI. 

^^  Thinking  of  the  picture,  it  seemcMl  as  if  she  had 
teen  his  living  self,  so  true  to  life  was  it,  so  perfect 
in  prose  and  expression,  with  the  same  look  in  th« 
dreamy  bine  eyes  that  she  had  seen  there  w)  ohmu,  th« 


THB  eiONTFWANT  PAINTINQ  t4i 

MUbe  gentle  deference  in  his  bearing,  that  rendered 
his  manner  so  exceedingly  fascinating.  And  then  the 
holly-berries  with  which  he  was  crowning  her — with 
which  he  had  said  once  so  flatteringly  that  he  desired 
to  see  her  decked — and  the  pet  name  which  he  had 
given  her  in  the  early  days  of  their  acquaintance. 
Could  she  doubt  his  remembrance  and  continued  affec- 
tion in  the  face  of  all  that  ?  No  1  she  would  trust  him 
•till,  until  a  blighting  certainty  of  faithlessness  crushed 
out  all  hope  from  her  heart. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Carrie  returned, 
having  passed  some  time  with  a  friend,  and,  therefore, 
took  the  opportunity  at  dinner  to  ask  her  mother  if  she 
remembered  the  name  of  that  Adair  they  knew  before 
going  south. 

"  Adair  ?  The  name  sounds  familiar,  but  I  do  not 
recall  the  person  to  mind  just  now.  Why?"  Mra. 
Mitchell  replied. 

"  Why,  the  picture  we  went  to  see  was  painted  by 
»n  artist  of  that  name,  and  Miss  Burton  here  formi 
©ne  of  the  principal  figures." 

Berrie  said  nothing,  but  heartily  wished  herself  np- 
•tairs,  and  Carrie,  knowing  she  was  annoying  her 
cousin,  continued  the  subject. 

"  Indeed  I  "  Mrs.  Mitchell  exclaimed  "  Is  the  artist 
a  friend  of  yours,  Berrie  % " 

"  He  was,  yes.  He  is  an  intimate  friend  of  my 
brother-in-law's,  and  spent  the  summer  previous  to 
going  abroad,  in  Bristol." 

"  What  made  you  thiiik  wo  eter  knew  him^  Cad- 
die t "  her  mother  inquired 


548  TEB  BMNIFIOANr  PAINTINO. 

"  Why,  Ma,  didn't  a  gentleman  of  that  xiame  m*nry 
Pa's  cousin,  Clara  Mitchell?  1  ara  sure  1  have  heard 
you  speak  of  it  a  hundred  times.*' 

"  Oh  yes,  I  recollect  now.  They  went  to  Parii  to 
live,  and  she  eloped  with  a  friend  of  his,  and  they  were 
both  killed  in  a  railway  accident  the  next  night.  Few 
knew  of  the  elopement,  however.  He  came  home,'* 
Bhe  continued  musingly,  "  to  find  the  firm  fearfully  in- 
volved, and  he  was  soon  as  poor  as  when  his  father 
died.  Then  he  lost  his  mother  soon  after.  We  went 
south  about  that  time,  and  I  lost  sight  of  him." 

"Didn't  he  have  any  brothers  or  sisters?"  asked 
Oarrie. 

"  Why,  yes ;  he  had  one  sister,  who  is  Mrs.  Merrill, 
of  Worcester  Street.     You  know  her,  Carrie." 

"  Of  course  I  do  1  You  remember  seeing  her,  don't 
you,  Berrie,  a  few  nights  ago,  at  the  concert  at  Mub'o 
Hall?  I  pointed  her  out  to  you.  She  attend*  our 
church,  too." 

Berrie  did  remember,  as  she  had  been  puzzled  at 
the  time  by  her  striking  resemblance  to  some  one 
she  knew,  but  could  not  tell  who  it  was. 

"  Do  you  remember  his  name,  mamma  ?  It  was  '  E. 
Adair'  on  the  picture ;  and  what  sort  of  a  looking  man 
was  he?" 

"  Oh,  he  was  very  finelooking — tall,  light  com- 
plexioned,  and  a  perfect  gentleman.  Hio  name  wai 
Edward — no,  Eugene,  I  believe." 

"  Was  that  the  name  of  the  one  you  knew,  Berrie?  ** 

"  Yea,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

^  Then  it  is  the  same  one,  without  a  doubt,  and  h«  ii 


THJt  BiaNlTlCANr  PAINTINO,  $48 

t  sort  of  coasin  to  us,  isn't  he,  Ma  ?  We  most  cnlti- 
T»t©  him  when  he  returns  to  America.  That  pictort 
alone  would  make  him  famous!  How  odd  that  he 
•hould  have  painted  you,  Berrie  1 "  she  added  provok- 
ingly,  and  turning  her  sharp  eyes  on  her  cousin. 

Berrie  made  no  reply,  and  Mrs.  Mitchell  said,  smil- 
ing :  "  I  do  not  think  it  is  at  all,  if  he  knew  Berrie. 
She  is  certainly  handsome  enough  to  be  painted.  I 
shall  have  to  go  and  see  the  picture  myself,  I  think  ;  " 
and,  to  Berrie's  relief,  she  arose  at  once  from  the  table. 

Berrie  was  both  amused  and  vexed  for  some  days  to 
hear  Carrie  constantly  refer,  in  the  presence  of  visitors, 
to  the  popular  painting,  claiming  the  artist  as  a  cousin, 
and  when  Berrie  was  spoken  of  as  the  original,  explain- 
ing it  by  the  fact  that  he  was  an  intimate  friend  of 
Miss  Burton's  brother. 

Berrie  allowed  her  to  say  what  she  liked,  without 
contradiction  or  comment ;  and  for  two  or  throe  weeks 
the  beaitiful  painting  and  the  fair  original  wat  the 
topic  on  every  one's  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXVm. 

A  VEW   ACQUAINTANCE — AN  mVITATIini. 

"He  was  one  most  loving  and  most  brare. 
In  whom  the  best  of  all  that^s  best  in  nuua, 
With  godlike  parts  strove  for  the  maiiteiy. 
A  friend  most  tme,  a  most  wise  connMlIor. 
He  was  most  dear  to  me, 
And  not  a  portrait  limned  by  flattery, 
To  show  the  semblance  but  of  what  waa  fair." 

J.  0.  Hbtwoob. 

MONTH  or  six  weeks  passed  on  without  any- 
thing of  much  interest  occurring  to  Berrie  of 
her  friends;  and  yet  there  had  been  quiet 
changes  working  as  an  undercurrent,  which  rendered 
Berrie's  life  at  her  aunt's  a  little  less  disagreeable  than 
formerly. 

It  was  now  toward  the  last  of  February,  and  her 
brother  and  Maud  had  been  home  about  two  weekl 
from  their  European  sojourn.  Maud  was  at  home, 
busily  making  preparations  to  go  to  housekeeping  in 
the  Spring,  when  she  declared  she  should  claim  Ber- 
rie, if  Belle  did  not  previously  return.  Mrs.  Wright'i 
Wealth  was  then  steadily  improving,  since  she  had  ral>- 


A  MEW  AOqUAINTAirOB-Air  INVITATIOM.  S45 

lUd  from  the  shock  of  her  double  bereavement,  and 
she  was  becoming  impatient  to  return,  and  be  estab- 
lished in  her  own  home  once  more,  with  her  deai'  sistef 
for  a  constant  and  honored  companion.  It  was  their 
intention  to  be  in  Boston  by  the  first  of  May,  although 
Maud  thought  it  probable  they  might  not  really  arrive 
before  June,  at  the  earliest.  Weekly  visits  to  Maud 
and  Helen  took  up  two  days  pleasantly,  and  time 
dragged  less  wearily  than  it  had  done  during  the  first 
month  or  two  of  her  stay  in  Boston. 

But,  after  all,  the  greatest  change  was  in  Carrie. 
Soon  after  the  picture  episode,  she  had  met  a  wealthy 
young  Englishman — not  particularly  good-looking  or 
brilliant,  but  rather  pleasing  in  manner — to  whom  she 
was  immediately  attracted,  and  which  had  ere  long 
proved  to  be  a  mutual  thing.  It  was  really  wonderful 
how  a  true  attachment  had  softened  and  improved  the 
girl.  Her  restlessness,  ill-nature,  and  jealousy  seemed 
nearly  to  have  vanished,  and  she  had  become  as  amia- 
ble as  she  had  before  been  disagreeable  and  captious. 
There  was  as  yet  no  formal  engagement,  but  either 
knew  that  the  words  only  were  wanting  to  make  then: 
one  in  life,  as  they  already  were  in  heart.  Berrie  was 
more  than  pleased  at  the  new  state  of  affairs,  and  really 
b^an  to  feel  at  home  and  content  in  her  aunt's  house. 

The  affair  of  the  picture  had  but  increased  Mr.  Han« 
•Vs  interest  in  the  girl,  and  though  at  first  she  had 
repelled  all  advances  from  him,  on  her  cousin's  account, 
ffhen  the  new  state  of  things  had  released  her  from 
the  sneers  and  unkind  treatment  of  her  cousin,  she 
allowed  beiself  to  take  all  the  pleasure  in  his  society 
X5« 


S46  ^  JfMW  ACqUAINTAKOE-AIf  INVITATIOir, 

which  it  could  afford  her.  Nor  was  that  smalX  H« 
was  well-informed  and  intelligent,  kind  hearted,  and| 
«o  far  as  she  knew,  good-principled,  and  she  came  to 
look  upon  him  as  a  dear  and  true  friend.  Still,  hei 
experience  with  Chariie  Anderson  had  taught  her  to 
be  a  little  cautions,  and  the  trials  through  which  she 
had  passed  had  imparted  such  an  air  of  unconscioua 
dignity  to  her  manner,  that  it  wai  not  euj  to  apprcwch 
her,  save  as  a  friend. 

Of  course,  her  mourning  still  excluded  her  from 
society,  and  she  was  fain  to  accept  all  the  legitimate 
amusement  that  came  in  her  way.  Thus,  many  a 
morning  was  spent  in  picture-galleries  and  libraries, 
and  evenings  in  the  society  of  the  few  choice  friends 
that  gathered  around  her  in  the  parlors  of  her  aunt*B 
hospitable  house. 

The  fair  face  of  Mr.  Adair's  sister  often  came  before 
her  in  the  distance,  and  she  was  conscious  of  a  strong 
desire  to  become  acquainted  vrith  the  woman  who  not 
only  bore  so  near  a  relation  to  her  absent  love,  but  alao 
BO  strongly  resembled  him  in  featjre  and  expression ; 
and  though  that  might  have  been  an  easy  thing  had 
she  made  her  wishes  known  to  aunt  or  cousin,  natn- 
rally  she  shrank  from  doing  so,  and  the  introduction 
was  still  unperformed. 

She  was  in  the  parlor,  one  afternoon  near  the  last  of 
February,  entertaining  a  friend  who  had  called,  when 
Mrs.  Merrill  was  announced.  She  had  called  to  see 
Mrs.  Mitchell  on  some  business  of  the  church  of  which 
they  were  both  members,  and  started  in  surprise  wheo 
Berrie  wag  presented  to  her. 


A  NEW  AOQUAHfTAyOE-AN  INVITATION.  347 

Wliiie  convereing  with  Mrs.  Mitchell,  eomewhat 
upart  from  Berrie  and  her  friend,  her  eves  constantly 
wandered  ofE  in  that  direction ;  and  when  the  other 
visitor  had  taken  leavBj  and  Berrie  approached  them, 
in  reply  to  some  request  of  her  aunt's,  Mrs.  Merrill  ex- 
claimed :  "  Pardon  me.  Miss  Burton,  but  are  you  not 
the  original  of  the  picture  which  my  brother,  Mr. 
Adair,  has  had  on  exliibition  at  Williams  «fe  Everett's 
for  some  weeks  ? " 

Berrie  colored  rosily  as  she  replied :  "  People  seem 
to  think  I  am,  Mrs.  Merrill." 

"  I  was  sure  of  it  the  moment  I  saw  you,"  returned 
the  lady.  "  The  resemblance  is  very  striking.  Of 
corj-se  you  know  my  brother,  then  ? " 

"  I  did  know  him,  yes,  before  he  went  abroad." 

"  Then  you  must  know  me  also,"  continued  the  lady, 
laughing,  "  for  if  there  is  any  one  I  worship  it  ii 
Eugene,  and  his  friends  are  sure  to  be  mine." 

Berrie  was  greatly  pleased,  and  replied  softly :  "  I 
am  sure  the  acquaintance  would  give  me  great  pleas- 
ure, Mrc.  Merrill." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad,  if  it  would  be  a  mutual  gratifica- 
tion. But  I  am  in  haste  to-day,  so  just  run  over  to- 
morrow afternoon,  informally,  and  see  me,  won't  you, 
Miss  Burton  1    I  would  be  so  glad  if  you  would." 

"  Thanks  I  I  should  be  pleased  to,"  said  Berrie, 
*  and  know  of  nothing  now  to  prevent." 

"  I  have  an  engagement  in  the  morning,  but  shall  be 
at  homo  before  three  o'clock ;  "  and  giving  her  address, 
ihe  hastened  away. 

Berrie  waa  more  gratified  than  ghe  cared  to  own, 


848  A.  NSW  AOqUAINTANOB-Air  nfVTFATIOS. 

and  the  next  afternoon  found  Jer  in  the  cozy  priyate 
iittingroom  of  Mre.  Merrill. 

"You  see  I  am  not  going  to  make  a  stranger  of  yon, 
Miss  Burton,"  she  had  remarked  as  she  invited  hei 
there,  adding :  "  Just  remove  your  hat  and  take  thi« 
easy -chair,  and  we  will  settle  ourselves  for  a  nice  oozy 
chat." 

Berrie  did  as  requested,  and  after  talking  on  com 
monplace  things  for  a  time,  Mrs.  Merrill  came  back  to 
the  picture. 

"  Do  you  know.  Miss  Burton,"  she  said,  "  I  wai 
almost  startled  when  I  saw  you,  the  resemblance  is  so 
striking  to  the  painting  I  have  spoken  of,  which  I  have 
studied  day  after  day,  admiring  and  wondering  who 
the  original  was,  half  inclined  to  believe  it  was  one  of 
those  fair  Italians,  although  the  scene,  and  even  the 
face,  was  so  pre-eminently  American.  But  in  my  last 
letter  from  Eugene,  he  remarked,  casually,  that  if  I 
should  chance  to  see  his  '  Holly-berry,'  I  was  to  b« 
very  kind  to  her,  as  I  should  be  certain  to  like  her 
Of  course  I  was  a  little  puzzled  at  first,  and,  in  fact, 
until  yesterday,  when  your  face  burst  upon  me  like  a 
revelation;  it  is  such  a  fac-simile  of  the  one  Id  thf 
painting." 

"  Yes,"  Berrie  returned,  a  little  confusedly.  "  I  be* 
lieve  Mr.  Adair  has  painted  me  to  perfection." 

"  He  has,  indeed,  and  I  am  exceedingly  glad  to  haT« 
met  you.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  my  brother  is  to  me ; 
'  my  hero,' "  she  added,  laughing,  "  in  the  nicest  sense 
of  the  word.  He  spared  no  pains  b:)  make  my  girlhood 
pleaaant  and  happy,  and  haa  been  to  me  the  kindcit, 


A  wjtvr  AOQUAiFTAiraE-  Ajr  mviTAi  :jir,  S49 

fcrneet  friend  a  woman  ever  Lad.  He  ia  -worthy  the 
gods'  best  gifts,  but  has  been  very  unfortunate.  He 
married  a  worthless  woman  when  quite  young,  who 
nearly  broke  his  heart,  and  has  had  more  sorrow  than 
falls  to  the  lot  of  many.  It  is  the  dream  of  my  life 
to  see  him  happily  and  worthily  married,  and  perma- 
nently established  in  a  home  of  his  own.  He  is  at 
least  deserving  of  any  woman's  highest  and  best  love. 
You  must  excuse  my  rhapsodies,"  she  went  on,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  I  never  know  where  to  stop  when  talking  oi 
my  brother." 

Of  course,  notwithstanding  it  confused  her,  no  theme 
was  so  pleasant  to  the  girl,  and  she  hastened  to  assure 
her  hostess  that  she  need  not  apologize,  as  she  did  not 
donbt  he  was  all  his  sister  thought  him. 

"  I  am  glad  if  you  think  so,"  returned  the  lady,  "  as 
1  am  sure  you  must  do  if  you  know  him  at  all.  Please 
tell  me  about  your  acquaintance  with  him,  Miss  Bur- 
ton." 

"  There  is  very  little  to  tell,  Mrs.  Merrill,"  the  girl 
returned,  her  downcast  eyes  and  crimson  cheeks  belie 
ing  her  words,  however.  "  He  spent  the  summer  pre- 
vious to  his  departure  for  Europe  in  Bristol,  and  I  saw 
him  frequently." 

"  Oh,  yes  I  remember.  And  were  you  staying  there 
too!" 

"  I  was  residing  there.  Bristol  has  always  been  my 
home  ontil  the  death  of  both  my  parents  a  few  monthf 
•go.'' 

**  Pardon  me,  my  child,  for  recalling  your  grief  to 
fovr  mind,"  Mud  ibm  lady,  gyn^)fttheticall7,  m  tb*  ipiVf 


860  A  NSW  AOqUAINTANOE-Ay  DfVlTATlOlf. 

eyes  filled,  and  in  tones  so  like  the  low,  tendei  ones 
of  her  brother,  that  it  thrilled  the  girl's  heart  with 
pleasnre.  ^  I  was  not  aware  of  so  recent  a  bereave- 
ment." 

"  No  apology  is  necessary,"  Berrie  returned  after  a 
moment  "  I  am  very  foolish,  doubtless,  but  I  loved 
my  parents  so  dearly,  and  had  such  a  pleasant  home,  I 
can  never  think  of  it  without  tears." 

"  My  poor  child  1  I  do  not  wonder.  But  we  were 
speaking  of  Eugene,"  she  added,  thinking  to  divert  her 
mind. 

"  Yes,  he  was  quite  intimate  with  my  brother-in-law, 
Mr.  Wright    Perhaps  you  know  him  %  " 

"  George  Wright  ?  Of  course  I  do  1  And  he  mar- 
ried your  sister  % " 

"Yes;  they  are  in  France  now.  I  expect  them 
home  in  the  Spring." 

"  And  Mrs.  Mitdiell  is  your  aunt  I " 

"Yes;  my  mother's  sister." 

"  I  believe  her  husband  was  a  distant  relative  of 
Eugene's  wife." 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  so,  yes.  Are  you  not  called 
very  like  him,  Mrs.  Merrill  ?  " 

"  Eugene  I  Yes,  by  many,  to  my  great  gratification," 
ihe  answered,  laughing.  "  I  am  very  proud  of  m^ 
brother^  particularly  since  he  has  developed  into  such 
a  talented  artist  He  was  always  desirous  to  paint, 
but  father  would  not  hear  of  it.  Don't  you  feel  greatly 
flattered,  Miss  Burton,  to  be  painted  by  such  a  model 
man  t "  she  laughed. 

^  I  hardly  know  whetker  I  am  most  flattered  or  an* 


A  KBW  AOqUAINTANOE-AN    N71TATT0N.   35J 

BOfed.  I  don't  think  I  like  being  exhibited  to  puV 
licly." 

«  Don't  yon  ? "  laughing.  "  Well,  I  don't  think  yon 
need  to  mind.  I  shall  write  Eugene,  the  next  tinM^ 
that  I  have  found  his  *  Holly-berry.' " 

The  conversation  drifted  off  to  other  things,  and  at 
last  Berrie  arose  to  go. 

"  I  must  tell  you  again,"  said  Mrs.  Merrill,  "  how 
very  happy  I  am  to  have  met  you.  Pray  don't  let  thia 
be  your  last  visit,  but  run  in  unceremoniouBly  at  any 
time." 

"  Thank  you,"  Berrie  returned, "  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  do  so." 

"I  assure  you  that  you  will  always  be  welcome," 
said  the  lady,  as  she  playfully  tied  the  girl's  hat  under 
her  chin,  and  then,  to  Berrie's  surprise,  impulsively 
took  her  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"  God  bless  yoa,  my  little  girl  I  come  in  often." 

Oh  I  how  like  to  his  was  her  voice  and  intonation 
when  she  let  it  drop  in  those  low  and  tender  tones ; 
and  as  the  short  winter  twilight  closed  around  her, 
Berrie  walked  slowly  homeward,  with  heart  and 
thoughts  full  of  her  absent,  but  ever  dear  friend. 

Annie  met  her  at  the  door,  exclaiming :  "  So  you 
have  arrived,  my  pretty  cousin  I  welcome  home 
again."  And  then,  as  they  went  upstairs — "  I  saw  Mr* 
Hanson  to-day ;  he  was  coming  here,  but  I  told  him 
you  were  out,  so  he  commissioned  me  to  ask  you  to  go 
to  the  opera  with  him  to-morrow  evening ;  It  will  be 
"  H-Trovatoro,"  he  said  and  tbey  kiTiF  a  fine  cast— I 
believe  that  was  the  wordj"   laughing.      ^I  was  to 


8ft2  >*  ^^W  AOQVAlKTAlfOS-~Air  TNYITATTOM. 

tell  yon  that  h«  would  have  a  private  box,  lo  jon  iMtd 
Dot  mind  your  mourning ;  and  would  you  be  so  kind  m 
lo  send  him  a  note  if  you  would  go.  There  1  I  believe 
I  have  delivered  the  message  verbatim  et  literatim 
Im  that  right  ?  "  laughing. 

Berrie  laughed  also.  "How  classical  yon  are  get- 
ting, Annie  dear !    Mr.  Hanson  is  very  kind,  and  I 

think,  in  consideration  of  Il-Trovatore,  I  must  a» 
cept." 

"  Say,  Berrie,"  said  the  girl  inddenly,  "  do  yoi 
mean  to  marry  Mr.  Hanson,  and  so  lose  me  my  pretty 
eousin  1 " 

"  Nonsense,  Annie  I  What  should  put  such  an  idea 
In  your  head?  I  have  no  such  intention,  I  assure 
you." 

"  Well,  I  heard  Cad  tell  Ma  to-day  that  she  should 
not  wonder  if  you  did,  and  how  she  should  have  felt 
once  at  the  prospect.  Do  you  know  Mr.  Saville  has 
proposed,  and  is  going  to  England  in  a  few  weeks  I " 

"  Indeed  1  I  am  very  glad.  Not  that  he  is  going 
tway,  but  that  Carrie  is  so  happy." 

"  So  am  I ;  she  is  ever  so  much  pleasanter  th«n  she 
used  to  be." 

Mrs.  Merrill  was  exceedingly  pleased  with  her  new 
•cquaiatance,  and  knowing  that  her  brother  must  be 
deeply  interested  in  one  he  could  paint  with  such 
perf ectness ;  her  next  letter  to  him  contained  the  foi 
lowing  passage :  "  Well,  my  dear  Eugene,  I  believe  1 
have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  your  '  Holly- berry,' 
the  original  of  your  painting  by  that  name,  and  must 
•ay,  you  have  barely  done  the  young  lady  justioe.    1 


A  mW  AOqVAlNTANOR^  AS  IHYITATIOM,  ^J| 

ma  de  love  to  her  at  once,  and  find  her  more  charming 
than  I  can  tell  you,  as  I  do  not  doubt  you  did  alao ; 
©h,  Eugene?  She  confessed,  with  downcast  eye^  and 
many  blushes,  that  she  knew  yon  ere  your  departure 
for  Europe,  and  I  could  but  guess  that  the  interest 
you  feel  for  her  is  fully  reciprocated.  And  oh,  my 
precious  brother,  you  cannot  think  how  many  fairy 
castles  I  am  building  for  you,  and  hope  you  will  b© 
sensible,  and  come  home  very  soon  to  your  sister  and 
love  !  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  the  dear  little 
girl  has  lost  both  parents  recently ;  and  as  her  sister  ia 
in  France,  she  is  staying  with  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Mitchell, 
whose  hogband  was  a  relative  of  Clan't,  I  beliere." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

■LBOHIHa — ▲    BSJEOTED    OFFEB — OONTRADTC     ASD    Cmi 

F0ET8. 

**  *Tii  Mnnewhst  to  have  known,  albeit  hi  Tmla, 
One  woman  in  this  sorrowful,  bad  «arth, 
WhoM  Tory  loss  can  yet  bequeath  to  p«fa, 
Kew  faith  in  worth. " 

Onjur  Mxmsom. 

'*  Bemembrance  wakes  with  all  her  bnsj  train, 
BwelLi  at  mj  breast,  and  turns  the  past  to  pain.** 

OoLDncma. 

'HEN  Berrie  drew  up  her  blind  on  the  follow. 
ing  morning,  she  found  that  it  was  snowing 
rapidly,  and  the  ground  was  already  white. 
The  storm  continued  with  but  short  intervals  during 
the  day,  and  as  night  fell,  it  rather  increased  than  di- 
minished. Therefore  Miss  Burton's  visit  to  the  opera 
was  indefinitely  postponed. 

Mr.  Hanson  called  during  the  evening,  expressing 
much  regret  for  the  pleasure  of  which  the  storm  had 
deprived  them ;  but  to  make  amends,  he  said  laughingly, 
they  would  have  a  sleigh-ride  the  next  afternoon,  to^ 


RLBIQEING.  855 

or  toward*  Brighton,  if  Miss  Bnrton  would  honor  him 
with  her  company.  Miss  Burton  would  be  happy  to 
do  BO,  and  thus  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  call  fo9 
her  about  two  o'clock  or  half-past  on  the  followin|; 
afternoon. 

The  day  proved  to  be  beautiful  beyond  comparison. 
Berrie  was  in  unusually  good  spirits,  and  could  but 
yield  to  the  exhilaration  of  the  scene  and  motion,  the 
charm  of  the  musically  tinkling  bells,  the  bracing 
freshness  of  the  clear,  cold  air,  and  the  novelty  of  the 
exciting  races  which  were  constantly  in  progress  before 
her  eyes. 

She  was  wrapped  to  the  chin  in  an  ermine  mantle, 
which,  on  account  of  her  mourning,  she  had  not  previ- 
ously worn  that  season,  and  now  donned  only  for  her 
comfort,  but  which  was  exceedingly  becoming  to  her  ; 
her  dark  curls  floated  on  the  clear,  sharp  breeze,  and 
her  rounded  cheeks  had  taken  on  a  deeper  tint  of 
crimson  than  they  were  wont  to  wear,  while  her  beauti- 
ful, rosy  mouth,  which  was  constantly  dimpled  by 
Bmiles,  looked  more  than  ever  tempting  and  kissable. 
So  thought  the  man  at  her  side,  at  least ;  and  his  eyes 
wore  a  new  light  as  she  now  and  then  glanced  up  at 
him — a  light  that  caused  her  to  dread  a  moment's 
cessation  of  the  lively  conversation  that  kept  her  chat- 
ting gaily  on  every  subject  which  presented  itself,  and 
in  endeavoring  to  ward  off  what  she  dreaded,  rendered 
her*elf  more  than  usually  chaming. 

They  extended  their  drive  farther  than  they  had 
thought  to  do,  and  at  last  alighted  at  the  hotel  in 
Brighton,  to  gire  the  horses  a  little  rest,  and  warm 


866  BLEI0B1N9. 

their  nnmb  fingers  and  toes.  A  brief  delay,  and  they 
were  in  the  sleigh  again,  and  driving  rapidly  hom»' 
ward;  bnt  the  shades  of  twilight  were  fast  falling 
aronnd  them  before  they  reached  the  city. 

For  the  greater  part  of  the  distance  the  horses  had 
completely  occupied  the  gentleman's  attention,  bnt  af 
they  neared  the  Roxbury  Une,  and  the  dashing  of  rac- 
ing teams  abated,  they  slackened  their  pace,  and  Mr. 
Hanson  had  an  opportunity  to  speak. 

"Miss  Burton,"  he  said  abruptly,  "why  do  you 
suppose  I  invited  you  to  drive  with  me  this  after- 
noon ? " 

"  Why,  indeed  ?"  she  laughed.  "  To  give  me  pleas- 
ure, I  suppose,  and  enjoy  my  charming  society." 

"  And  do  vou  think  that  was  all  I "  and  his  tones 
said  more  than  his  words. 

"Of  course;  what  other  object  could  yon  have! 
It  is  growing  fearfully  cold,  won't  you  please  drive 
faster?" 

"  Yes,  after  I  have  told  yon  that  I  love  you,  and 
asked  for  a  reciprocity  of  my  affection." 

It  was  said,  manly  and  straightforwardly,  liki  him 
self. 

Berrie  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  exclaiming  • 
"Don't  tell  me,  Mr,  ILanson.  I  cannot  listen  t* 
you." 

The  man  seemed  struck  dumb  for  a  moment,  them 
he  said  sadly  :  "  Is  there  no  hope  for  me.  Miss  Burton  I 
Have  I  been  mistaken  in  thinking  I  was  not  diMgre» 
able  to  you  I " 

**  Ton  art  not  disagreeable  to  hm,  I  «Mur«  joi*  lit 


^LBIQEINO.  351 

ELauBon,  but  I  do  not,  cannot  love  /on  i     ehe  retttrned 
with  efFort. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  been  too  precipitate  \  "w^U  yon  not 
let  me  endeavor  to  win  your  love  ?  " 

It  was  a  moment  before  she  replied,  and  as  she  had 
done  when  Charlie  Anderson  had  told  her  a  similar 
tale,  she  debated  if  she  conld  not  be  won  by  him,  and 
mt  last  forget  the  man  who  seemed  to  consider  her  love 
BO  little  worthy  an  efFort  to  retain ;  but,  as  then,  al- 
though in  a  shorter  space  of  time,  her  heart  recoiled  at 
the  thought,  and  she  knew  that  the  love  she  had  given 
to  him  was  "  the  sole  love  that  life  gave  to  her." 

Therefore  she  answered  gently :  "  I  should  be  cruel, 
my  friend,  to  say  yes  to  your  plea ;  for  it  could  but 
end  in  a  sharper  disappointment  than  a  decided  re- 
fu>»al  now  would  be.  Oh,  Mr.  Hanson ! "  she  added 
with  emotion,  "you  cannot  fancy  what  pain  this  gives 
me.  I  seem  destined  to  lose  every  friend  I  prize,  in 
one  way  or  another.  I  heartily  wish  I  had  never  come 
to  Boston." 

"  Do  not  say  that ; "  he  returned  gently,  and  the 
darkness  hid  the  white  face  and  lips  that  quivered  like 
a  woman's.  "  I  certainly  cannot  regret  having  met 
you,  although  it  was  only  to  lose  you.  It  is  something 
to  have  known  so  true  a  woman ;  one  that  must  give 
her  sex  an  added  sacredness  in  my  eyes  henceforth 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  I  am  paimsd  exceedingly  b» 
the  annihilation  of  my  hopes,  and  regret  being  tne 
cause  of  sorrow  to  you ;  but  I  acquit  you  of  all  blame 
in  the  matter,  and  must  ever  look  upon  you  aa  the 
noblest  and  eweeteet  woman  I  have  ever  kncwn." 


358  BLEionma. 

"  And  we  may  bo  friends  yet  1 "  beseechingly. 

"  If  you  will,  yes.     I  shall  be  only  too  glad." 

He  touched  the  horses  Math  the  whip,  and  they 
•prang  rapidly  forward,  and  Mr.  Hanson  soon  Jfted 
her  from  the  sleigh  at  her  aunt's  door. 

"  Good  night,  my  friend ! "  she  said  softly,  as  she 
gave  him  her  hand  in  farewell. 

"  Good  night,  and  may  God  keep  you  1 "  he  pressed 
her  hand  lingeringly,  lifted  his  hat  to  her,  and  running 
down  the  steps,  sprang  into  the  sleigh  and  drove  rap- 
idly away,  while  Berrie  entered  the  house  with  such 
pain  in  her  heart  as  any  true  woman  could  but  feel 
under  like  circumstances. 

Two  months  glided  rapldiy  onward,  and  brought  the 
first  of  May.  Mrs.  Wright  had  not  yet  returned  from 
abroad,  but  was  erpected  in  the  course  of  another 
month.  Berrie's  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Merrill  had 
progressed  rapidly,  and  she  already  loved  the  beauti- 
ful woman,  as  she  had  loved  few  friends  of  her  own 
sex  previously  ;  while  all  her  aflection  was  fully  recip- 
rocated by  Mrs.  Merrill,  who,  as  she  had  written  her 
brother,  was  dreaming  many  a  dream  of  future  happi- 
ness for  her  dear  brother  and  almost  equally  dear  friend. 

Carrie's  betrothed,  Mr.  Sa^alle,  had  left  for  England 
more  than  a  month  previous,  and  she  had  already  re- 
ceived one  or  two  letters  from  him,  when,  as  they  were 
all  sitting  together  in  the  pleasant  back-parlor  one 
afternoon  in  May,  the  bell  rang  with  the  carrier'i 
peculiar  ring,  and  the  servant  entered  with  a  foreign 
letter  for  Miss  Mitchell.  Berrie  was  feeling  rather  de^ 
preseed  and  sad  that  day,  and  the  contrast  between  hei 


BLEIQUINO.  369 

lov«r  and  thait  of  her  cousin's,  strnck  her  bo  forcibly, 
u  the  letter  was  broiight  in,  that  she  arose  haetily  and 
went  upstairs. 

How  her  heart  swelled  with  longing  for  tidings  of 
ker  dear  one ;  for  a  few  fond  lines  written  in  his  own 
dear  hand,  for  a  single  proof  of  remembrance,  and 
continued  affection.  But  no !  other  lives  were  filled 
full  of  love ;  other's  friends,  when  absent,  were  con- 
stant in  tlieir  remembrance  and  tokens  thereof ;  while 
she  was  doomed  to  live  her  lonely  life,  unsatisfied,  un- 
thought  of,  uncared  for,  wasting  all  the  wealth  of  ten- 
derness which  dwelt  in  her  loving  heart,  all  the  con- 
stancy of  a  rarely  true  nature,  on  one  who  couJd  let 
years  of  absence  elapse,  without  a  single  word  of  even 
friendly  remembrance  and  regard. 

Could  he  do  so  if  he  really  cared  for  her  ?  Much 
as  he  disliked  writing,  would  it  not  be  a  pleasure  to 
write  to  one  he  loved  ?  He  was  unkind — almost 
cruel.  He  did  not  deserve  that  she  should  be  true  to 
him ;  he  did  not  prize  her  love,  or  he  would  make  some 
effort  to  retain  it.  Why  could  she  not  have  taught 
herself  to  care  for  Mr.  Hanson,  who  -vould  have  cher- 
ished her  as  she  wished  and  deserved. 

She  stood  beside  the  window  in  her  room  as  she 
mused  thus,  her  forehead  pressed  against  the  pane,  her 
heart  swelling  with  grief  and  longing,  her  throat 
throbbing,  her  eyes  full  of  such  bitter,  bitter  tears,  a 
few  of  which  had  trickled  over  the  flushed  cheeks, 
whne  her  lips  were  compressed  despairingly,  when  an 
arm  stole  around  her  waistj  and  a  sweet,  arch  face 
looked  into  her  ow3i« 


360  sLEiannro. 

"  Wliy,  cousin  dear  1 "  said  the  young  girl,  in  toi 
prised    but  tender  tones,  "what  is   the   matter!     It 
breaks  my  heart  to  see  you  feeling  so  bad  y." 

"  It  is  nothing,  Annie  dear,  don't  distress  yourself," 
uiid  Berrie,  wiping  away  the  traces  of  tears.  "  Only  I 
feel  rather  sad  to-day,"  and  she  sat  down  and  drew  the 
girl  in  her  lap. 

"  I  am  ever  so  sorry,  Berrie.  But  I  forget ;  Mrs. 
Merrill  is  downstairs,  and  wishes  to  see  you.  I  told 
Ann  I  would  tell  you,  and  came  near  forgetting  it.  I 
rapped,  but  receiving  no  answer,  thought  you  were 
out,  so  just  peeped  in  to  see." 

"  That's  all  right,  dear ;  you  need  not  stand  on 
ceremony  with  me."  She  arose,  bathed  her  face, 
changed  her  collar,  and  went  down. 

Mrs.  Merrill's  object  in  calling,  as  soon  transpired, 
was  to  deliver  a  message  from  her  brother,  which  wai 
contained  in  a  letter  that  she  had  but  just  received. 

"  Here,  you  shall  read  it  for  yourself  I "  said  the 
lady  >  handing  one  sheet  of  the  letter  to  the  blushing 
girl. 

That  dear  familiar  hand-writing  1  how  good  it  was 
to  see  it  once  more  1  and  the  tears  that  had  hardly 
been  repressed,  dimmed  her  eyes  again  as  she  at- 
tempted to  read. 

"  So  yon  have  really  found  my  *  Holly-berry,'  my 
dear  sister  1  I  am  very  glad,  both  for  her  sake  and 
yours,  as  I  am  sure  that  the  pleasure  in  the  acquaint- 
ance will  be  mutual.  But  I  am  greatly  grieved  to 
learn  that  she  has  been  so  sadly  bereaved,  and  cannot 
bring  myself  to  realize  it  as  yet.     Please  remember  xm 


BLEioHnre.  861 

veiy  kindly  to  her,  and  assure  her  of  my  heartfelt 
sympathy  for  her  in  her  great  sorrcw.  Say  to  bar 
also,  that  I  can  never  forget  the  pleasant  hoars  w« 
have  passed  together  in  her  old  pleasant  home,  and 
that  I  trust  to  see  her  once  more  ere  the  present  year 
ihall  give  place  to  another." 

There  vras  more  in  the  message  than  was  apparent 
to  a  casual  observer,  and  all  her  doubts  of  the  moment 
before  seemed  answered  by  this  brief  passage  in  his 
letter  to  another.  So  he  was  coming  home  before  the 
year  waned,  and  he  had  not  forgotten  either  her  or 
the  past  with  which  she  was  connected.  That  was 
enough  for  the  present,  and  her  tears  fell  fast  as  she 
handed  back  the  letter  to  her  friend,  and  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands,  saying :  "  Do  not  mind  me,  Mrs. 
Merrill ;  I  have  been  sad,  nervous  and  homesick  all 
day  to-day,  and  the  time  of  which  he  speaks,  was  the 
happiest  year  of  my  life." 

"  My  dear  little  girl  1 "  and  the  impulsive  lady's  arm 
WHS  around  her  waist,  and  Berrie's  head  drawn  ten- 
derly to  her  shoulder.  "  I  know  all  about  it,  dear,  and 
tears  are  a  great  relief  sometimes."  And  suspecting 
more  than  the  girl  confessed,  she  soothed  and  petted 
her  by  turns. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wright  returned  early  in  June,  the 
latter  with  restored  health  and  spirits,  and  at  once  took 
up  their  abode  in  their  old  home  at  the  Sjuth  End, 
and  Berrie  left  her  aunt's  for  her  sister's. 

Annie  was  quite  nnconsoled  for  a  time,  but  as  their 
homes  were  not  many  blocks  distant  from  each  other, 
eontrired  to  see  Berrie  nearly  ervry  day^  although 
U 


869  sLBionmo. 

never  ceasing  to  regret  "  losing  her  pret*y  coiism,"  m 
she  persisted  she  had.  Hattie  came  in  for  a  short 
vacation,  and  Berrie  felt  as  if  she  once  more  had  i 
home. 

"  By  the  way,"  remarked  Belle;  the  day  following 
her  return.  "  Did  George  tell  you  that  he  ran  down 
to  Venice  to  see  Mr.  Adair,  shortly  before  we  left  ? " 

"  No  ;  he  did  not  say  «'\ny  thing  about  it." 

"  Well,  he  did  1  H  ^  said  Eugene  was  looking 
splendidly,  though  paini  ing  hard.  lie  thought  he 
should  return  to  America  in  the  fall.  I  suppose  yoD 
bear  from  him  often." 

"  No ;  I  have  mot  heard  directly,  of  late." 

"  Indeed  I  He  is  a  miserable  correspondent.  Well, 
he  will  be  home  one  of  these  days,  and  then  all  will  be 
right." 

Berrie  said  nothing.  She  did  not  care  to  have  even 
her  own  sister  know  how  she  had  been  neerlected,  to 
say  the  least,  by  one  she  had  loved  with  her  whole 
heart,  or  to  betray  how  dear  he  was  to  her  still,  not- 
withstanding his  seeming  desertion.  So  they  went  on 
talking  about  his  famous  picture, "  Ilolly-berry,"  about 
Berrie's  acquaintance  with  his  sister,  Mrs.  Merrill,  and 
kindred  subjects. 

"  Oh  yes,  he  is  certain  to  be  famous  1 "  said  Belle 
carelessly.  "  George  said  he  was  much  thought  of  in 
Venice.'' 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Berrie,  in  a  pause  of  the  conver- 
sation, "did  you  know  that  Helen  had  published  » 
book?" 

^*  No,  indeed ;  has  she  9 " 


OLBIOHINO.  468 

"Tes,  aboat  two  mcntbs  ago,  ai  i  Ihe  proip6ct4  are 
tliat  it  will  be  quite  a  eucceas." 

"  Well,  I  am  very  g^ad  She  didn't  teteh  *  eboot* 
ing,'  as  Bhe  used  to  call  it,  very  long,  did  she!" 

"  No ;  and  she  has  a  beautiful  home.  You  mwX  f© 
down  there  one  of  these  days." 

"  Yes,  I  shall  like  to.  How  long  have  Maud  and 
Charlie  been  housekeeping  1 " 

"  About  a  month,  only. 

«  Why  didn't  you  go  with  them  ? " 

"  Oh,  aunt  wished  me  to  remain  with  her  until  yon 
came,  and  as  there  was  a  prospect  of  that  being  soon, 
I  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  change." 

"  When  is  Cousin  Carrie  going  to  be  married  ? " 

"  About  next  Christmas  or  New  Year's,  I  expect." 

"How  do  you  Kke  her  betrothed  ? " 

"Oh,  very  much.    Carrie  will  do  Yexy  weU  iAdeed." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

JWTUBNED   FROM   ABROAD — MUTUAL  DOUBTI. 

'*4J»n  you  find  out  her  heart  through  that  velvet  and  laett 
Can  it  beat  without  ruffling  her  Bumptuous  dress  f 
She  will  show  you  her  shoulder,  her  bosom,  her  face. 
Bat  what  the  heart's  like,  you  must  guess." 

OwSN  MKBKDITK. 

**  If  you  break  your  plaything  yourself,  dear, 
Don't  you  cry  for  it  aU  the  same  f 


I  don't  think  it  is  such  a  comfort — 
One  has  only  one's  self  to  blame." 


A.  Pbootok 


'T  was  an  evening  far  into  December,  and  in 
the  privacy  of  her  own  room  at  her  sister's, 
Berrie  was  dressing  for  a  party.  Her  Cousin 
Annie  was  also  there,  chatting  constantly  in  hei  ttnxi&l 
lively  manner,  and  Benie  was  smiling  and  answering 
her  merry  nonsense  by  turns. 

Her  beautiful  hair  was    already  moet    becomingly 
arranged,  and  she  was  just  fastening  the  sweeping  robe 
of  black  velvet,  wliich  fitted  the  fine,  full  form  to  pei 
fection,  its  short  sleeves  and  low  bodice  revealing  and 
eimancing  the  beauty  of  the  rounded  armg  and  ehool- 


aXTVTtNED  FSOM  ABROAD- VOTUjtL  DOUBTS.     365 

den,  as  Annie  exclaimed,  drawing  towards  her  the 
girl's  jewel-casket : 

"  Let  me  select  jonr  jewelB,  ooiuin !  Where  if  th« 
key  ? " 

Berrie  took  it  from  the  bureau  in  front  of  her,  and 
tossed  it  to  her  cousin,  saying,  "  I  do  not  wear  jewels, 
dear,  and  I  think  there  is  nothing  there  that  I  wish. 
You  can  look  at  them,  however,  if  you  like." 

"  You  are  the  queerest  girl,  Berrie  I  I  never  saw  one 
before  but  that  liked  such  things." 

"  Oh,  I  like  to  see  them,  well  enough,  but  do  not 
care  about  wearing  them.  Besides,  my  dress  it  too 
matronly,  Belle  says,  and  I  do  not  care  to  make  it  cou- 
apicuous  by  a  blaze  of  jewels." 

"  What  a  beautiful  set  of  pearls,  Berrie !  oh,  do  wear 
these  I     I  think  pearls  are  just  lovely." 

"  So  do  I,  but  they  do  not  suit  me ;  there  is  too  much 
contrast" 

"  Well,  try  these  garnets ;  those  are  sure  to  become 
you." 

*^  Yes,  but  you  know  I  am  scarcely  out  of  mourning 
M  yet,  and  those  would  hardly  do.  Give  me  my  ring, 
Annie— that  diamond  there." 

Annie  took  it  up  and  held  it  off,  admiring  the  bril' 
iiance  of  the  precious  stones,  then  nearer,  nearer  still, 
and  at  last  exclaimed:  "Why,  Berrie,  isn't  this  a 
locket  ring?  I  am  sure  I  see  the  least  mite  of  a 
hinge,"  and  she  looked  up  inquiringly. 

Berrie  laughed  and  blushed,  and  holding  out  her 
hand  for  it,  said  :  "  What  sharp  eyes  you  have,  Annie. 
No  one  ever  detected  it  before.    I  shall  have  to  be 


S66  RETURN SD  FROM  ABROAD- KUTUAL  DOUBTS, 

careful  how  I  let  yon  into  mj  jewel  <»8ket8,  and  incb 
things." 

"  Oh,  Berrie  I  yon  know  I  never  wonld  apeak  of  any 
thing  that  you  wouldn't  like  me  to^  and  1  am  sure  yon 
B«ed  not  mind  your  little  cousin." 

"  No,  I  don't,  Annie ;  you  are  a  dear  little  friend  to 
mo." 

"  Then  you  might  let  me  see  what  was  in  it,  Ber- 
rie I "  archly. 

Berrie  hesitated,  saying  at  last,  slowly :  "  "Well,  I  do 
not  know  that  I  care.    You  can  look  at  it  if  you  like." 

"  Not  unless  you  are  willing  that  I  should,"  said  thi 
honorable  little  girl. 

For  answer,  Berrie  touched  the  spring  and  handed 
it  to  her  cousin. 

"  Oh,  isn't  he  splendid  1 "  exclaimed  the  girl. 
"Have  I  ever  seen  him  ?  it  seems  to  me  I  have  1 "  as 
she  looked  at  it  intently,  with  a  puzzled  expression  in 
her  face. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  have,  Annie.  He  has  been  in 
Europe  for  several  years." 

"  Then  I  have  seen  some  one  that  he  looks  like ;  hii 
face  looks  as  familiar  as  can  be." 

Berrie  did  not  reply ;  and  after  a  moment  the  girl 
exclaimed :  "  Oh,  I  know  1  it  is  Mrs.  Merrill.  Is  it 
her  brother,  the  artist,  Berrie  ? " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  were  1 "  said  Berrie,  smU< 
ing. 

"  Then  I  shall  lose  my  pretty  cousin  entirely,  one  of 
these  days ! "  and  she  looked  so  woe  begone  Berrie 
ooald  not  help  laughing. 


ORTVaNBD  FROM  ABROAD— MUTUAL  D0UBT6.     367 

"  Why,  Annie  dear,  don't  look  bo  discongolate.  Yon 
haven't  lost  me  yet,  and  there  is  no  prospect  of  your 
doing  so.  The  ring  was  a  parting  gift  from  Ajriendj 
that  is  all." 

"  But  you  like  him,  I  know !  for  thongh  you  don't 
care  for  jewels,  you  always  wear  thia." 

"  Yes,  I  like  him  I  "  said  Berrie  absently 

"  And  of  course  he  does  you,  or  he  wouldn't  have 
painted  you." 

"  WeD,  if  you  are  done  admiring  him,  please  pan 
him  over,"  said  Berrie,  laughing.  "  And  remember, 
this  is  between  you  and  me,  little  girl." 

"  I  will  remember,  never  fear  1 "  and  she  went  on 
turning  over  the  contents  of  the  jewel-casket.  At  last 
she  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  what  is  in  here  ?  May  I  see, 
Berrie?" 

Berrie  was  busy  tying  the  broad  lavender  sash, 
and  without  looking  at  her  cousin,  answered  mechani- 
cally in  the  affirmative. 

"  Oh,  how  perfect !  that  is  the  loveliest  of  all  I  Do 
wear  this,  Berrie,  it  would  look  80  handsome  in  your 
hair.'* 

Berrie  turned  quickly.  "  What  an  inveterate  little 
fxplorer  you  are,  Annie  1 "  as  her  cousin  held  up  the 
Bpray  of  holly,  given  her  more  than  fou^'  years  pre- 
vious, by  one  who  was  now,  as  then,  all  the  world  to 
her.  Adding :  "  No,  dear,  I  could  not  wear  that  if  1 
were  inclined,  for  the  same  reason  that  I  rejected  the 
garnets ;  but  I  am  not  inclined ;  I  never  wore  it  but 
once,  and  that  was  over  four  years  age.  Four  long 
yenn !  how  many  changes  there  have  be^n  i "  she  ooa 


8«8     BMTUnNED  FROM  ABROAD-  MUTUAL  DOUBTB. 

tinned  masingly  ;  and  in  a  few  minntes  canght  herseil 
hommiDg  tne  air  of  "  Juanita,"  which  the  cluBter  of 
■carlet  berries  in  her  conein's  hand  had  instauiijf  re- 
called. 

"  Shut  the  casket  now,  dear,  and  give  me  the  key," 
ehe  continued  after  a  few  moments.  ^'  1  am  ail  readj 
now  but  the  flowers  in  my  hair,  and  I  want  you  to  ar- 
range those." 

Annie,  highly  flattered,  obeyed  with  alacrity,  but 
exclaimed  in  dismay,  as  Bessie  handed  her  some  sprays 
of  heliotrope,  and  a  few  geranium  leaves :  "  Nothing 
but  this,  Berrie  ?  it  isn't  half  pretty  enough." 

"No?"  laughed  Borrie.  "I  think  it  just  suited, 
I  cannot  wear  bright  colors  yet,  and  white  is  too  con- 
spicuous. The  heliotrope  will  do.  There  1  that  looks 
very  nicely,  and  Belle  is  calling.  Come,  Annie  I  turn 
down  the  gas,  please  1 "  and  the  girls  left  the  room,  to 
find  Mrs.  Wright  waiting  for  them  in  the  hall  below. 

"  Take  off  your  cloak,  and  let  me  see  how  you  look," 
•aid  Belle. 

Berrie  obeyed,  and  after  looking  her  over,  her  sister 
■aid :  "  Well,  you  will  do  I  that  lace  is  exquisite,  but 
no  jewels,  as  usual." 

" '  Beauty  unadorned,  etc.,*  you  know.  Belle," 
laughed  Berrie,  and  they  entered  the  carriage,  and 
drove  rapidly  away. 

The  party  was  given  by  Mrs.  Mitchell,  and  Annie 
had  gone  over  to  see  her  cousin  dress,  retuming  with 
them  in  the  carriage. 

How  seldom,  in  reality,  do  "coming  events  cast 
tiMur  ahadowa  before  I "    How  little  Berrie  dreamed, 


MMTV1UHED  FROM  ABROAD -MuTUAL  DOUBT&     869 

•B  she  stood  in  the  drcs.^ing-room  at  her  aunt'e,  deliber- 
ately drawing  on  hei  gloves,  of  what  the  evening  had 
in  store. 

The  first  hour  or  two  pascied  as  ench  hours  generally 
do,  with  nothing  special  to  mark  them,  and  midnight 
was  fast  approaching,  when,  in  compliance  with  con- 
tinued urging,  Berrie  took  her  place  at  the  piano, 
which  stood  in  such  a  position  that  the  long  mirror  in 
the  back  parlor  was  in  full  view,  and  consequently  a 
large  part  of  the  company  present,  who  were  reflected 
on  ita  ihining  surface. 

She  had  undertaken,  by  pressing  request,  to  sing  a 
piece  of  which  she  had  not  the  music  there,  but  that 
was  perfectly  familiar  to  her,  and  was  nearly  half 
through  it,  when  her  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  the 
mirror,  dilated  with  surprise,  she  turned  deadly  pale, 
and  forgetting  to  sing,  her  hands  dropped  on  the  keys 
with  a  crash. 

The  sound  brought  her  back  to  herself,  and  laugh- 
ing, although  somewhat  constrainedly,  she  exclaimed  : 
"  Please  excuse  me,  good  friends,  I  have  entirely  for- 
gotten the  rest  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  favor 
you  with  ? " 

Several  other  pieces  were  initantly  named,  and  shi 
gang  one  of  them  with  even  more  than  her  usual  ex 
pression  and  grace,  but  without  a  return  to  her  cheek 
of  its  banished  color,  and  rising  inmiediately  on  iti 
completion,  she  turned  to  Ned  Lester  who  was  standini 
near,  and  said  in  a  low  tone :  *'  Take  me  to  the  11 
brary,  please,  Ned,  the  heat  makes  me  faint,"  and  her 
fMce  oertaioly  did  not  belie  her  worda.    ^  Once  onn  of 


370     RETURNED  FROM  ABROAI^ -MUTUAL  DOUBTTBL 

the  crowd  1  shall  feel  better,"  she  added,  as  Ned  led 
her  from  the  room,  eagerly  watched  by  one  pair  oJ 
eyes,  whose  reflection  in  the  mirror  had  so  startled  tk« 
girl,  and  abruptly  ended  her  song. 

Mrs.  Merrill,  with  a  tall,  light-oomplexioned  gentle- 
man, at  her  side,  whom  she  proudly  introduced  as 
"  My  brother,  Mr.  Adair,  who  has  just  returned  from 
Earope,"  made  her  way  into  the  crowded  back  parlor, 
inquiring,  "  ^Vllere  is  Miss  Burton  ?  I  am  sure  I  heard 
her  singing  but  a  moment  since." 

"Yes,"  some  one  replied,  "she  went  out  a  minute 
ago  with  Mr.  Lester."  Adding:  "She  and  Mrs.  Bur- 
ton's brother  are  very  good  friends." 

"Why  should  they  not  bef"  returned  the  lady. 
"  They  have  known  each  other  a  long  time ;  I  am 
vexed  that  she  has  gone  out,  I  want  to  see  her.  I  won- 
der where  she  is." 

"  Gone  promenading  on  the  balcony  with  her  frUndy 
doubtless,"  sueered  the  woman  who  had  previously 
spoken. 

'•  Probably  she  has  not  /  "  returned  Mrs.  Merrill  with 
spirit.  "Miss  Burton  is  not  so  imprudent  as  to  go 
from  this  warm  room  directly  into  the  cold,  night  air. 
Bhe  has  gone  to  see  her  Ooosin  Annie,  doubtless,  of 
whom  she  is  very  fond." 

"And  is  Mr.  Lester  *fond  of  her  Cousin  Annie' 
tlso  I "  asked  the  woman. 

"  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  he  were ;  Annie  is  a 
very  pretty  girl,"  returned  Mrs.  Merrill  serenely,  and 
taking  her  brother's  arm,  she  drew  him  away  from  the 
notnity  of  the  spiteful  gossip. 


RBTUBNED  FSOM  ABROAD— MUTUAL  DOUBTS.     371 

Berne  was  not  long  absent,  and  when  she  retarned, 
leaning  on  Ned  Lester's  arm,  the  color  had  returned  to 
cheek  and  lip,  and  one  would  not  have  guessed  it  had 
even  been  banished  therefrom. 

During  her  brief  absence,  she  had  reasoned  herself 
into  believing  that  her  eyes  had  deceived  her,  and  that 
the  face  whose  reflection  in  the  mirror  had  so  startled 
her,  was  not  that  of  her  long  absent  friend,  as  she  had 
at  first  supposed.  She  felt  certain  that  had  he  re 
turned,  she  should  have  been  made  aware  of  it,  by  her 
aunt  had  she  known  of  it,  and  assuredly  by  Mrs.  Mer- 
rill, who  she  knew  was  exceedingly  anxious  they  should 
meet.  Mrs.  Merrill  was  very  late  to-night,  and  she  ha<f 
not  as  yet  seen  her. 

As  to  him,  he  had  listened  to  the  familiar  tones  of 
the  sweet,  rich  voice,  with  a  thrill  of  the  olden  pleas- 
ure, and  somewhat  in  advance  of  his  sister,  had  pressed 
forward  just  in  time  to  see  her  leave  the  room  with  his 
Did  fancied  rival,  Ned  Lester.  The  remarks  of  his 
sister's  gossiping  neighbor,  though  having  not  the 
slightest  effect  upon  her,  did  not  allay  the  feeling  of 
jealous  distrust  which  was  already  awakened  in  his 
heart.  He  told  himself  that  doubtless  her  bereavement 
had  delayed  their  marriage,  which  might  possibly  h? 
on  the  eve  of  consummation,  and  reasoning  thus,  made 
himself  as  miserable  as  need  be.  At  least  he  resolrcl 
he  would  not  be  very  demonstrative  to  his  old-tim« 
love,  the  girl  with  whom  he  had  parted  lip  to  lip, 
whose  picture  still  lay  "  near  his  heart,"  as  he  had  tcld 
her  playfully,  just  beiore  bidding  her  farewell, — to 
whom  hiB  allegiance  had  iMver  for  a  moment  wavered 


872    BETXmirKD  FROM  AimOAn-MUTXTAL  DOUBTS. 

He  would  not  be  very  demonstrative  to  her  until  he 
had  satisfied  himself  "  how  the  land  lay,"  or  had  re- 
ceived from  her  some  token  of  continued  regard 
Foolish  man  that  he  was  t  Did  he  know  her  so  little 
as  not  to  believe  that  she  would  rather  die  than  betray 
such  a  feeling!  not  to  know  that  lore  him  as  she 
might,  she  was  proud  enough  yet  to  crush  it  down 
out  of  sight  and  knowledge,  until  won  timidly  forth 
by  a  similar  confession  from  his  own  reticent  lips  I 

Conversing  calmly  with  those  by  whom  he  was  war- 
rounded,  he  still  kept  constant  watch  for  the  return  of 
the  girl  he  loved  ;  nor  did  be  fail  to  see  her  entrance, 
although  she  had  been  in  the  room  some  time  before 
his  sister  was  aware  of  it,  and  he  had  a  brief  opportu- 
nity of  studying  her  from  a  distance. 

Berrie  had  changed  much  in  the  past  four  yean, 
vid  the  eyes  that  had  not  looked  at  her  in  all  that 
time,  could  not  fail  to  note  it.  The  fair  face  seemed 
less  mobile,  more  grave,  reserved,  and  cold.  The 
rounded  form  had  gained  a  little  in  height,  or  appeared 
to  have  don^  so  in  the  heavy,  trailing  dress  that  she 
wore,  but  in  her  bearing  and  manner  was  the  most  uo- 
ticable  difference.  He  had  left  her  little  more  than  a 
shild,  with  the  gay,  arch,  playful  airs  of  a  young  and 
artless  girl ;  he  returned  to  find  a  matured,  self- 
possessed  woman ;  carrying  in  her  face  the  marks  of 
•u£Fering  and  bereavement,  polished  and  graceful  in 
manner,  but  cold,  quiet,  and  at  timea  a  little  haughty, 
receiving  the  homage  of  those  around  her  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  remaining  so  impassive  under  the  most 
flattering  attentions,  as  to  proroke  a  lormise  ^iiat  either 


RKTVBNBD  FROM  ABROAD-MUTUAL  DOUBTS.     878 

her  heart  was  exceedingly  cold,  or  ehe  had  long  ago 
wept  all  passion  out  of  it. 

Mr.  Adair  watched  her  with  eyes  that  sought  in  vain 
to  read  that  heart ;  to  judge  if  the  man  who  was  con 
stantly  at  her  side  was  in  any  degree  preferred  to 
others  who  surrounded  her.  She  evidently,  he  thought, 
had  no  idea  of  his  presence  there, — never  once  did  her 
eyes  wander  in  that  direction,  but  she  carried  on  the 
conversation  in  which  she  was  engaged  with  the  most 
cool  and  easy  air  imaginable,  her  thoughts  seemingly 
not  wandering  beyond  the  circle  where  she  sat. 

At  last  his  sister  turned,  and  glancing  into  the  back 
parlor,  discovered  her  friend. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Burton  has  returned.  Come  and  speak 
to  her  Eugene,"  and  taking  his  arm  she  drew  him 
away,  saying  laughingly :  "  Please  excuse  him,  ladiefl 
and  gentlemen,  I  wish  him  to  see  an  old  friend." 

"  Berrie  will  b«  surprised  at  seeing  me  I "  he  re- 
Oiarked. 

«  Who  ?  "  asked  his  sister. 

"  Why,  Berrie— Miss  Burton." 

"  What  a  pretty  pet  name  I "  she  laughed.  "  Wh« 
but  you  would  have  thought  of  it" 

"  Why,  that  is  her  name — Berrie  Burton.  Didn't 
f  ou  know  it  ? " 

"  No  indeed,  I  did  not.  Come  to  tlunk  of  it,  I  be- 
lieve I  never  heard  her  first  name  mentioned." 

"  That  is  singular,  as  long  as  vou  have  known  her." 

"  Gooi  evening.  Miss  Burton, '  said  Mrs.  Merrill. 
'^  I  was  looking  for  you  a  while  ago,  and  you  had  rva 


874     BKTURNSD  FROM  ABROAD -MUTUAL  DOUBTh. 

Berrie  arose  and  returned  her  friend's  greetingi 
»nd  Mrs.  Merrill  at  once  introduced  her  brother. 

"  Allow  me,  Miss  Burton,  to  present  an  old  frienAf 
Mr.  Adair,"  she  said. 

How  thankful  Berrie  was  that  she  had  been  pre- 
viously made  aware  of  his  presence  there,  that  sh« 
might  not  betray  the  emotion  that  she  would  have  done 
on  so  sudden  a  presentation. 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  meet  you  once  more.  Miss 
Burton,"  in  the  low,  cultivated  tones  she  remembered 
BO  well,  and  with  the  same  kindly  look  in  his  face  as 
she  glanced  up  at  him,  and  placed  her  hand  in  the  one 
extended. 

"  /  am  very  much  surprised  at  meeting  you  /  "  she 
returned  smiling,  and  perfectly  self-poss-Bssed  outwardly, 
although  her  heart  was  beating  suffocatingly.  "  His 
return  was  somewhat  unexpected,  wasn't  it,  Mrs.  Me^ 
riii  ? "  turning  to  her  friend. 

"  It  was  indeed  I  he  never  wrote  me  a  word  to  Idt 
me  have  the  pleasure  of  anticipating  it,  but  droTe  up 
late  this  afternoon,  as  unceremoniously  as  if  he  had 
only  been  gone  a  day." 

"Much  to  your  surprise  and  gratification,  I  pre- 
sume," she  smiled. 

"  I  assure  you,  yes  1  and  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to 
lead  him  off  to  the  steamer  to  hasten  his  baggage,  that 
I  might  bring  him  around  here  to-night." 

"  That  is  why  you  were  so  late.  I  had  aoncluded 
you  were  not  coming." 

"  Yes.  You  were  singing  when  we  came  in,  bu* 
before  I  could  reach  yor  had  disappeared." 


BMTURNED  FROM  ABROAD-MUTUAL  DOUBT&     87| 

**  I  went  upstaire  for  a  moment."     Very  qnietly. 

"Mr.  Adair,  allow  me  to  present  my  friend,  Mr, 
Loiter,"  she  added,  and  as  the  introduction  was  ack 
Bowledged,  Mrs.  Merrill  exclaimed  : 

"  Pray  excuse  me,  Mr.  Lester,  for  overlooking  you. 
Tou  see  I  am  so  enra]>tnred  at  my  brother's  return, 
that  I  know  nothing  else,  scarcely. 

"  Which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  I  forgive  you, 
Mrs.  Merrill  I "  laughed  Ned. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  so  magnanimous.  Perhaps 
you  know  all  about  it,  as  your  sister  returned  from 
Europe  not  long  since. 

"  I  do,  I  assure  you.  Miss  Burton  and  I  have  been 
trying  to  discover  what  relation  we  are ;  can  you  assist 
us  in  our  dilemma,  Mrs.  Merrill  ?  Her  sister  married 
my  brother,  you  know — or  rather  her  brother  married 
my  sister,"  he  corrected,  as  they  all  laughed  at  hii 
blunder. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  unravel  such  a  complicated 
relationship,"  laughed  the  lady,  and  Berrie  said  to  Mr. 
Adair :  "  Tou  did  not  see  my  sister  Belle  when  she 
was  in  France,  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  not,  no.  I  was  very  sony  not  to  be  able  to 
do  so,  but  I  did  not  know  they  were  abroad,  or  rather 
where  they  were,  until  Mr.  Wright  ran  down  to  see 
me  at  Venice,  and  my  engagements  then  were  such 
that  I  could  not  leave.     Is  she  well  I  " 

"Very  well  now,  thank  you,  and  if  present  t> 
night" 

**  Indeed  I    I  have  not  see  her,  cor  her  Irjasbftnd." 


876     RETURNED  FROM  ABRO^iD-  MUTUAL  DOVmn 

"  Mr.  Wright  is  out  of  town,  and  Belle  haa  giDne  up 
stairs  with  my  aunt,  I  think." 

"  There  have  been  many  changes  since  T  went 
away,"  in  a  low  tone,  and  looking  intently  at  the  pa» 
fiionless  face  before  him.  Most  of  the  immediate  cir- 
cle had  moved  away,  Ned  with  the  rest,  and  they  wert 
comparatively  alone,  with  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Mer- 
riU,  who  liad  taken  a  seat  by  Berrie,  while  her  brothei 
leaned  against  the  mantel-piece  near  by. 

"  Yes  1 "  she  returned  quietly,  with  downcast  eyeaj 
and  lips  that  slightly  trembled  for  an  instant.  Add- 
ing, 

"  '  Prienda  haye  been  scattered  like  ro8«  in  bloom, 
Some  at  the  altar,  and  Bome  at  the  tomb.* 

Belle  and  Charlie  are  married,  Hattie  is  at  school, 
and  our  pleasant  home  is  among  the  things  of  the 
past." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  Berrie, — "  the  old  name,  with 
the  old  tender  intonation — "  how  deeply  1  sympathized 
with  you  in  your  great  grief." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Adair.  Yon 
saw  enough  of  what  my  home  was,  to  know  something 
of  what  I  have  lost." 

"  I  did,  indeed  1  I  can  never  forget  my  pleasant 
summer  in  Bristol.  Are  you  staying  with  Mn. 
Wright?" 

"  At  present,  yes ! " 

"  I  was  about  to  in^nire  for  my  little  friend,  Misi 
HAttie.     I  suppose  she  is  almost  a  young  lady  now." 

"  She  is  at  boarding-school,  as  I  said  before.    Yei, 


RKTUUNBL  FROM  ABhOAD-MUTUAL  DCUBTB.     877 

ihe  ifl  quite  a  tall,  pretty  girl.  She  is  nearly  fourteen 
bow" 

At  this  moment  Ned  returned,  and  said  to  Berrie : 
**  Your  sister  does  not  feel  well,  and  is  going  home. 
6he  wished  me  to  ask  if  you  were  ready,  or  if  she 
•hould  send  the  carriage  back.  I  of  course  volunteered 
to  Bee  that  you  arrive  safely." 

"  Don't  go  yet.  Miss  Burton,  I  have  scarcely  seen 
you.  Tell  Mrs.  Wright  I  will  take  her  home  myself," 
interposed  Mrs.  Merrill. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Mre.  Merrill,  but  I  think  I  will 
go  with  Belle.  I  am  very  tired  myself.  Gk)od-night, 
my  friend.     Good-evening,  Mr.  Adair." 

"  Run  over  to-morrow  if  you  are  not  too  much  fi^ 
tigued,"  said  Mrs.  Merrill. 

"  Thanks,  I  will  I "  she  returned,  thinking  that  she 
certainly  should  be. 

"  Present  my  regards  to  Mrs.  Wright,  Miss  Burton, 
and  say  that  I  shall  call  soon,"  said  Mr.  Adair. 

"  She  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you.  Good-evening," 
and  bowing,  she  took  Ned's  arm  and  left  the  room. 

An  hour  -ater,  Berrie,  with  her  heavy  dress  thrown 
aside,  her  hair  pushed  back  from  her  face,  and  her 
tiieek  resting  in  her  palm,  sat  before  the  grate,  musing 
on  the  event  of  the  evening.  The  large  eyes  were  dark- 
ened with  pain,  the  sweet  lips  sharply/  compressed,  and 
her  heart  very  heavy  ;  but  no  tears  fell,  as  they  vould 
have  done  so  freely,  four  years  ago,  when  her  heart 
ached  as  it  did  this  evening.  He  had  come  back  at 
tast,and  they  had  met  and  pirted,  scarcely  «S8  warmlj 


57  S     RSTUItNED  FROM  ABROAD-MUTVAL  DOUBTS, 

than  mere  Btraugers.  He  had  taken  her  hand,  looked 
into  her  eyes,  talked  to  her  in  a  very  kind  and  friendly 
manner,  it  is  true  ;  but  oh,  how  different  was  the  com- 
ing home,  from  what  she  had  anticipated  in  the  early 
days  of  his  absence  1  And  in  her  heart  still  rolled  the 
heavy  tide  of  her  love  for  him,  which  had  never  ebbed, 
whose  flow  was  full  and  strong  as  ever,  while  his  had 
evidently  flow:;,  out  long  ago,  leaving  only  the  bare 
sands  of  lost  affection,  strewn  here  and  there  with 
wrecked  hopes,  and  the  broken  shells  of  constancy  and 
truth. 

She  might  have  felt  less  bitterly,  as  she  sat  there 
alone  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning,  could  she  have 
looked  at  that  moment  in  the  heart  of  the  man  that  she 
deemed  was  lost  forever  to  her,  as  he  sat  with  his  sister 
in  her  pleasant  sitting-room,  talking  of  past,  present, 
and  future. 

"  Eugene,  what  am  I  to  think  of  you  and  Miss  Bur- 
ton I  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  Just  what  you  like,  I  suppose.  I  could  not  attempt 
to  control  a  woman's  thoughts,  Grace,  I  am  sure,** 
gmiling. 

"  Yes,  but  what  do  you  wish  me  to  think  ? " 

"  Anything  that  pleases  you,  Grace." 

"  Well,  I  have  been  thinking  that  for  a  long  time, 
and  now  I  want  to  know  if  my  castles  have  all  been 
built  in  Spain,  or  if  there  is  hope  they  may  have  a  solid 
foundation,  and  rear  their  graceful  towen  in  dear  old 
Ameri'ja." 

"  You  are  poetical,  Grace.  Ai  long  as  there  \m  hi» 
there's  hope,*  you  know," 


RETURNED  FROM  ABROAD-MUTUAL  DOUBTS.     S7% 

"  You  torment  I  "  and  she  pulled  his  mustacho  play 
fully.  *'  Can't  j  3:1  give  a  plain  answer  to  a  plain  que* 
tionf*' 

"  I  suppose  I  could  ;  "  he  smiled,  "  but,  pardon  me, 
Grace,  your  questions  have  not  as  yet  been  exceedingly 
plain." 

"  I'll  ma^e  thorn  plain  enough  I "  she  laughed. 
"  Eugene,  do  you  love  Miss  Burton  ? " 

"  Grace,  I  do." 

"  Bless  your  dear  heart,  my  brother  I  And  does  MIm 
Burton  love  you  ?  " 

"  You  ask  me  too  much  now,  Gracie  dear,"  and  a 
shadow  swept  over  the  handsome  saxon  face.  "  Would 
to  God  I  could  say  yes,"  he  continued  earnestly.  Then 
after  a  pause — "  You  have  seen  much  of  her,  of  late, 
and  you  women  understand  each  other ;  can  you  not 
answer  the  question  yourself?" 

"  Sometimes  I  think  I  can,  and  then  again  I  am  puz- 
zled. Miss  Burton  is  very  proud,  and  has  a  good  deal 
of  self-control." 

"  She  has  changed  greatly  since  I  went  away." 

"  She  has  had  a  great  deal  to  change  her;  and  four 
years  at  her  time  of  life  generally  changes  character 
ftnd  manner,  somewhat.  She  is  a  very  charming  girl ; 
At  least  the  gentlemen  think  so." 

"They  always  didl"  he  returned  a  little  bitterly. 
"  Have  I  any  rival  in  particular  ?  " 

"  No — ^"  slowly — "  she  seems  to  favor  Ned  Lester  the 
meet,  but  they  are  such  old  friends,  and  aknost  related| 
!t  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.'* 

^  Yoii  do  not  think  they  are  eugaged,  then  f 


880    RSTUnNED  FROM  ABROAD-  MUTUAL  DOUBTA 

"  No,  I  scarcely  think  they  are  1  She  wears  a  di» 
mond  ring  on  her  fore-finger,  but  it  is  a  cluster — " 

"  Has  it  a  close,  heavj'  setting  ? "  he  interposed  eag- 
erly, and  his  heart  beat  almost  audibly  afi  he  waited  foi 
her  reply. 

"  I  never  examined  it  closely,  but  I  think  it  hzA.  At 
least  it  is  not  nearly  as  open  as  mine.  Why  S  did  yon 
give  it  to  her  ? " 

"  I  gave  her  one,  yes  I  " 

"  Didn't  she  have  it  on  to-night  1  ebo  tdwaya  wears 
it." 

"  I  did  not  notice  it ;  I  think  both  p'lovea  were  on.*' 

"Yesl  they  were,  I  remember.  She  nevei-  wears 
any  jewels.     Didn't  she  look  beautifully  to-night  ? " 

"  Yes  I  She  has  scarcely  left  off  mourning  yet,  has 
she  ?    I  noticed  she  wore  no  flowers  but  heliotrope." 

"  Scarcely,  no  I " 

"  Do  you  really  think  there  is  hope  for  me,  Grace  1  '* 
after  a  pause. 

"  I  could  tell  better  if  I  knew  how  far  matters  had 
progressed  when  you  went  away." 

"  We  were  engaged,  conditionally.  I  left  her  fre0, 
not  daring,  from  past  experience,  to  trust  her  poweri 
of  constancy." 

"  You  foolish  man !  she  is  no  Clara,  I  assure  you. 
And  you  have  been  gone  all  this  time  without  writiBg 
to  her?" 

"  I  wrote  her  twice,  but  received  no  reply." 

"Twice  in  four  years  1  A  devoted  lover  you  mmi) 
forsooth  1  You  do  not  deserve  her.  There  is  not  oM 
woman  in  ten  that  would  have  been  oonstanL" 


RBTVRNB2>  FROM  AliROAD— MUTUAL  DOUBTS.    381 

**  Any  woman  would  tlat  truly  loved." 

"  Nonsense  1  Jxfve  must  have  something  to  feed  it. 
Many  a  woman  would  Lave  married  from  pique,  or 
from  a  fealing  that  if  once  she  was  bound  to  another^ 
ahe  should  forget  her  former  lover." 

"  Well,  she  did  not  answer  those  I  did  write." 

"  Perhaps  she  did  not  receive  them ;  or  likely  as  not 
you  did  not  send  her  any  address." 

"  I  think  I  did ;  but  Mr.  Wright  knew  it,  she  might 
have  asked  him." 

"  Do  you  know  so  little  of  women,  Eugene,  as  to 
think  she  would  do  that  ?  As  I  told  you  before,  Miss 
Burton  is  very  proud." 

"  You  told  her  you  did  not  trust  her,  I  warrant  1 " 
she  added. 

"  Why  yes  1  I  said  something  to  that  effect,  I  be- 
Heve." 

"  What  fools  men  are  I  I  thought  yon  more  eewA- 
ble  than  the  rest  of  your  sex,  Eugene." 

"  Well,  after  what  I  have  passed  through,  I  am  sure 
I  had  some  excuse  for  want  of  confidence." 

"  But  you  need  not  have  let  her  know  that  you  dis- 
trusted her,  and  should  have  made  every  effort  to  re- 
tain her  love.  If  you  lose  her,  you  will  have  only 
yourself  to  blame." 

"That  don't  make  it  any  pleasanter  I"  bitterly.  "Of 
eourse  she  saw  the  picture  ? " 

"  What, '  Holly  Berries  ? '  yes  I  but  I  couldn't  get  her 
to  Bay  much  about  it,  only  that  she  did  m:.t  know  as  she 
ftuicied  being  exhibited  in  that  maimer.     I  didn't  be* 


889    RETVRNKJi   FBOM  ABROAD— MUl  UAL  JDOUBTA 

come  acqnamted  with  her  until  some  months  after  Bh« 
first  saw  it" 

There  was  a  silence  of  a  few  minntes,  and  then  Mrs. 
Merrill  asked — "  Well  I  what  do  you  propose  to  do  f " 

He  started.     "  Do  ?  about  what  ? " 

"  About  Miss  Burton,  to  be  sure.  Do  yon  mean  to 
go  to  her  in  a  manly,  straightforward  way,  and  tell  her 
tliat  you  love  her  still,  and  ask  her  to  be  your  wife,  or 
do  you  mean  to  keep  quiet,  until,  even  if  she  does  love 
you,  she  is  stung  into  accepting  some  one  else  ?  For 
she  will  never  betray  the  state  of  her  feelings  to  you,  I 
warrant  you.'* 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  premature." 

"  Pshaw  1  It  should  be  sufficient  encouragement  for 
you  that  she  hasn't  married  in  all  this  time ;  and  if  she 
has  been  waiting  for  you,  it  would  be  cruel  and  insult- 
ing to  delay  now.  K  she  loves  you,  she  has  endured 
enough  already  in  your  seeming  desertion." 

"  Well  ? "  after  a  long  pause. 

"Well,  I  will  take  advantage  of  the  first  oppor- 
tunity." 

"  Make  your  own  opportunity,  my  dear  brother." 
And  she  bent  over  him,  and  pressed  her  lips  to  his 
forehead. 

"  It  is  the  dream  of  my  life  to  see  you  *  marrie^'l  and 
bjippy,'  and  I  could  not  wish  for  a  dearer  tiste^  Vhan 
foxa  ♦  Hollj-berry.' " 


CHAPTER  XXXT. 


▲HOTHEB  PBOFOSAIi — AVOIOAirCI. 

"  I  eumot  lore  him ; 
Tflt  I  flnppoae  him  virtaoiu,  know  him  aohU^ 
Of  great  estate,  of  fresh  and  itainloM  jtralk ; 
Bat  jet,  I  cannot  Iotb  him." 


^ELLE,  I  am  going  to  spend  the  day  with  Maud  1  * 
said  Berne,  the  following  morning  at  break 
fast. 

"  I  wouldn't  dear,  to-day  ;  aren't  you  too  tired  I "  re- 
turned her  sister. 

"Nol    I  don't  feel  like  staying  in  all  day.    Thin 
fresh  air  will  do  me  good." 

"  Perhaps  it  will.    Well,  give  my  love  to  her,  and 
tell  her  to  come  down  in  the  course  of  the  week," 
"  When  do  you  expect  George  home.  Belle ! " 
"  This  evening,  unless  I  receive  word  to  the  contrary.*" 
"  He'll  be  surprised  to  see  Mr.  Adair,  won't  ho  t " 
"  Yes  I  he  hasn't  heard  from  him  since  he  aaw  him 
at  Venice  " 

"  Ber/ie,  are  you  going  away  to  avoid  Eugene !  * 
BCrs.  Wright  aaked  abruptly  a  few  minutes  later. 


884  AjrOTHEH  PliOPOaAL-AVOWAMOM. 

"  What  an  idea  I  It  is  uot  likely  he  will  call  to-day ," 
«l\e  returned  evasively,  yet  looking  slightly  conscioiuk 

Nevertheless,  she  did  think  it  very  likely  he  wonld 
'dA)Ji  tiiat  day,  and  in  accordance  with  that  thought,  was 
jjoi  determination  to  go  away.  He  had  said  he  should 
call  to  see  Mr€.  Wright,  not  her ;  a  remark  which  an- 
nihilated hdT  last  hope,  and  to  her  sensitive  heart, 
^teemed  intended  to  show  her  that  all  was  over  between 
them.  Besides,  she  shrank  from  meeting  him,  and 
yet  she  knew  if  she  remained  at  home  she  should  be 
constantly  expecting  him,  and  would  be  accordingly 
listless,  nerv<>u8,  and  uncomfortable. 

"  Dv^  not  be  alarmed  if  I  should  not  oome  back  to- 
night," she  said,  as  she  left  th«  house  an  hour  or  two 
later. 

She  passed  quite  a  pleasant  day,  although  she  did 
not  leave  her  restlessness  at  home,  and  was  so  absent 
at  times  all  day,  that  Maud  at  last  asked  her  what  she 
was  in  such  deep  thought  about,  receiving  a  laughing 
and  evasive  reply. 

Ned  came  in  to  tea,  unexpectedly,  and  was  snrprieed 
mt  seeing  Berrie  there. 

**  Well  Berrie,"  he  said,  "  you  recovered  from  last 
Bight's  dissipation  pretty  soon,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes  1 "  she  returned.  "  I  left  early,  you  know, 
luid  have  not  been  out  much  as  yet,  therefore  I  was 
comparatively  fresh." 

"80  vour  old  admirer  has  come  back  I"  he  sai4 
•rdily. 

«  Who  f "  inquired  Maud,  «  Charlie  Anderson  f " 

^  Charlie  Anderson,  no  I  "  returned  Ned  contempt* 


AHOTUBR  PROPOSAL— AVOWANOM.  8M 

oa»lj.  "  A  more  dangerous  rival  of  mine  than  ha  •ver 
was,  I  assure  you.  No  other  than  the  artist,  Adair. 
Do  you  know  him,  Burton  ?  " 

"  Only  by  hearsay,"  returned  Charlie.  " .  «  ho  an 
old  admirer  of  yours,  Berrie  % " 

"  So  Ned  says  1 "  she  answered,  laughing,  but  blush- 
ing also.  "  But  I  fancy  he  don't  know  much  mor« 
•bout  it  than  you  do." 

"  Well,  he  is  highly  spoken  of,"  said  Charlie,  "  and  I 
•hould  be  glad  to  see  Berrie  happily  married." 

"  Are  you  so  anxious  to  give  me  away,  Charlie  f  *' 
•ho  said  in  pretended  reproach. 

"  Not  unless  it  were  for  your  own  happiness,  as  yon 
know,  of  course.  I  used  to  think  that  you  and  Ned 
would  make  a  match ;  but  he  seems  to  be  an  incorrig- 
ible old  bachelor,  loving  all  the  girls,  but  desiring  to 
possess  none." 

"  That's  just  as  much  as  you  know  1 "  retorted  Ned, 
"  And  here  is  proof  to  the  contrary.  Berrie,  will  you 
take  such  a  scamp  as  I  am,  and  try  and  make  some- 
thing of  me  f  Come,  name  the  happy  day  1 "  and  seiz- 
ing her  hand,  he  dropped  on  one  knee,  saying  in  an 
aside  to  Charlie — "  You  see  I  mean  to  make  the  most 
of  my  time,  before  that  fellow,  Adair,  has  a  chance  tc 
cut  me  out." 

Berrie  laughed,  and  attempted  to  draw  her  hand 
away,  saying :  "  Oh,  spare  my  blushes,  Ned,  and  don't 
make  me  confess  my  attachment  before  so  many." 

He  arose  from  his  kneeling  position,  and  with  his 
arm  ar  vund  her  waist,  drew  her  through  the  folding 
doors,  near  which  she  was  standing,  and  closing  them 

n 


5g6  Alf OTHER  PROPOSAL— AVOID ANOE. 

behind  him,  said  :  "  You  shan't  have  that  excuse,  lie)* 
rie  I  Tell  me  that  you  love  me,  and  will  be  mj 
wife." 

Something  in  his  tone  struck  her  as  unwonted — •!• 
though  he  had  said  the  same  thing,  in  effect,  playfully, 
a  dozen  times — and  she  looked  into  his  face  question- 
ingly  before  replying.  There  was  an  expression  there 
she  had  never  seen  before,  and  drawing  away  from  him, 
and  attempting  to  open  the  doors,  she  said:  "Don't 
talk  nonsense,  Ned !     It  is  time  I  was  going  home." 

"  Don't  trifle  with  me,  Berrie  1  it  is  time  we  came  to 
terms."  And  Ned  laughed,  and  stood  with  his  back 
against  the  doors,  although  the  same  unusual  look  lin- 
gered in  his  face,  and  shone  from  his  merry  brown  eyea, 
which  looked  wonderfully  soft  and  tender. 

"  About  what,  pray  ? "  was  the  evasive  reply. 

"  About  being  married,  to  be  sure  1  When  is  it  to 
be?" 

"  Never,  I  guess,  Ned  1 " 

"  Berrie,  look  at  me  1 " 

She  obeyed,  and  looked  long  and  earnestly  in  his  face, 
which  took  on  a  very  tender  and  loving  look  under  hef 
gaze. 

At  last  he  said :  "  I  am  not  making  believe,  Berrie. 
I  love  you  better  than  any  one  else,  and  ask  you,  in  00 
many  words,  to  be  my  wife." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,  Ned  I 
We  are  like  brother  and  sister  to  each  other,  and  never 
can  be  anything  more." 

"  Is  that  final,  Berrie  ? "  ar  d  the  meny  taoe  looked 
ferj  grave  indeed 


ANOTHER  PROPOSAL- AVOIDANOB.  ^g) 

**  Yea,  Ned  1  I  thought  you  knew  it  was  bo,  and  w«t« 
•ontent." 

"  Then  it  is  only  brother  and  sister  ? " 

"Only  brother  and  sister,  Ned,  but  alvjays  that." 
And  in  her  earnestness  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der. 

He  turned  impulsively,  and  drew  her  within  his  arras, 
saying  sadly :  "  Farewell  to  love  then  I  Give  me  a 
•ister'g  kiss,  Berrie,  to  seal  our  relationship,  and 

' — Boften  for  raj  heart 
The  pain  of  this  mistake.'  ** 

And  Berrie,  with  infinite  pity  unhesitatingly  obeyed, 
and  would  have  drawn  away,  but  detaining  her,  he 
laid :  '*  Wait,  Berrie ;  do  you  love  Eugene  Adair  f " 

"  You  have  no  right  to  ask  me  that,  Ned." 

"  I  have,  Berrie,  a  hroiher^s  right.  Answer  me  I  I 
will  be  true,  I  promise." 

"  What  good  would  it  do  you,  Ned,  if  I  should  tell 
you?" 

"  Much  1  It  will  show,  at  least,  that  my  sister  luu 
confidence  in  me." 

"  Yes,  Ned,  I  do !    Let  me  go,  please  I " 

Without  a  word  in  reply,  he  released  her,  opened  the 
folding-doors  for,  and  closed  them  behind  her,  then 
itepped  into  the  hall,  and  taking  his  hat,  left  the  honse. 

Charlie  and  Maud,  with  a  single  exclamation  ex- 
pressing a  desire  that  it  might  be  as  Ned  wished 
•waited  their  return,  and  guessed  when  Berrie  came 
In  alone,  how  the  matter  had  terminated. 

**  It  is  getting  late,  and  I  must  go.    Ch«rlie,  yon  will 


888  ANOTHER  PliOPOSAI^  -A  VOIBANOB. 

have  to  go  home  with  me,  as  Ned  had  an  engagement| 
I  think,  and  has  gone." 

Mr.  Adair  had  called,  as  Berne  had  anticipated,  and 
expressed  much  regret,  she  was  informed,  at  not  find- 
ing her  at  home.  But  she  was  not  informed  that  he 
had  inquired,  when  told  where  Berrie  had  gone,  if  Mr. 
Burton  had  not  married  a  sister  of  the  Mr.  Lester  to 
whom  he  had  been  presented  the  previous  evening,  and 
on  being  answered  in  the  afiirmative,  had  gone  away 
with  his  heart  filled  with  the  old  jealous  pangs. 

"  She  might  have  known,"  he  thought,  "  that  I  would 
call  to-day,  and  doubtless  went  away  especially  to  avoid 
me.  In  that  case,  she  cannot  care  for  me  still,  of 
course."  Had  he  understood  the  sex  better,  he  might 
have  taken  that  very  thing  as  proof  that  she  did  care 
for  him  still. 

He  having  abeady  called,  she  remained  at  home  the 
following  day,  instead  of  spending  it  with  Helen,  as 
she  meant  to  have  done,  in  case  the  gentleman  had  not 
yet  presented  himself  at  her  sister's  ;  thinking  he  cer- 
tainly would  not  call  two  days  in  succession.  But  late 
in  the  p.  m.  Mrs.  Wright  came  up,  and  said  that  Mr. 
Adair  was  downstairs  and  wished  to  see  her. 

"  Will  you  go  down  with  me.  Belle,  and  remain  m 
long  as  he  does  \ "  she  asked. 

'•'  Why  no  1  of  course  not  1  He  don't  want  to  tee  mot 
He  has  a  message  for  you,  Bridget  said." 

*'  Then  I  will  send  down  word  that  I  am  engaged, 
and  he  can  deliver  the  message  to  her." 

"Nonsense I  go  down  and  see  him." 

*  Not  mileaa  you  do  1 "  decided!/. 


ANOTHER  PROPOSAX^-AVOIDANOB.  389 

"  Well,  come  along  then  1 "  and  tbey  left  the  room. 
"I  have  half  a  mind  to  tell  him  that  you  made  me 
come." 

"  Hush  1  Perhaps  the  parlor  door  is  open.  Don't 
you  dare  to  do  any  such  thing.  Wait  a  moment,"  she 
added,  "  I  have  forgotten  something."  And  running 
back  she  drew  his  ring  from  her  finger  and  threw  it  oe 
tlie  bureau,  saying  to  herself :  "  He  shall  not  know  I 
wear  the  ring  of  a  man  who  has  deserted  me." 

Mr.  Adair's  first  glance  was  for  the  identical  ring, 
and  its  non-appearance  on  her  hand,  he  did  not  con- 
sider particularly  encouraging. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Adair  1  I  missed  your  call 
yesterday,"  in  as  self-possessed  a  manner,  as  if  her 
heart  had  not  been  swelling  with  love  for  the  man  be- 
fore her,  who  had  once  held  her  in  his  arms,  as  his  be- 
trothed bride.  She  wondered  vaguely  if  he  thought 
of  it  now. 

"  Yes  1  I  regretted  exceedingly  not  being  able  to  see 
yon." 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Wright  ? "  asked  Belle. 

"  Yes  1  I  called  at  his  ofEce  this  morning." 

"  He  was  quite  surprised  at  your  abrupt  return." 

"  As  all  my  friends  were  I "  he  returned,  smiling. 
"I  am  a  poor  correspondent,  and  neglected  writing 
until  too  late." 

He  looked  at  Berrie  as  he  spoke,  and  she  thought 
the  could  bear  witness  to  the  fact  he  had  stated. 

**I  shall  have  a  new  picture  on  exhibition  next 
week,"  lie  said  after  a  while.  "  I  have  given  up  buai- 
ii«M  entirely,  »nd  devote  my  time  to  painting  now." 


390  ANOTHER  PROPOSAL-AVOIDAITOB. 

"  Indeed  ? "  said  Mrs.  "Wright.  "  Your  other  picton 
created  quite  a  sensation  in  Boston." 

"  *  Holly-berries  ? '  yes  1  That  was  owing,  I  fancy, 
tc  the  beauty  of  my  principal  figure,"  he  laughed. 

Berrie  colored  as  she  inquired:  "Which?  the  gen- 
tlemnn  or  lady  ? " 

"  Oh  the  lady,  of  course !  I  flatter  myself  I  achieved 
ft  perfect  likeness  in  painting  that.  Do  you  not  agree 
with  me  that  the  girl  was  lovely,  Mrs.  "Wright? " 

Belle  laughed :  "  I  do,  indeed,  Mr.  Adair  I  And 
the  artist's  figure  was  very  good  also." 

"  Yes !  a  friend  of  mine  la  Venice  painted  that.  I 
hope  you  will  like  my  other.  It  is  an  Italian  land- 
scape. I  shall  be  glad  to  take  you  to  see  it.  Miss 
Burton,  and  Mrs.  "Wright  also,  if  her  husband  won't 
object,"  laughingly. 

"Oh  no  I  George  isn't  jealous,  I  believe,"  Mrs. 
"Wright  returned.  "  But  I  dare  say  he  will  like  to  take 
me  himself." 

The  conversation  continued  on  commonplace 
matters,  until  Mr.  Adair,  seeing  no  prospect  of  Mrs. 
"Wright  lea\'ing  the  room,  arose  to  go. 

"  By  the  way,  I  came  near  forgetting  my  errand. 
My  sister  wished  me  to  call  and  ask  you  to  come 
around  to-morrow  evening.  She  expects  some  com- 
pany, I  believe;  a  little  informal  gathering  of  inti- 
mate frlendft  Shall  I  say  that  you  will  come,  Misa 
Burton  ? " 

Berrie  hesitated.     She  would  have  been  glad  to  re 
fuse,  brt  did  not  see  how  she  could,  and  therefore  an- 
swered •  "  Thank  your  lifiter  for  me,  Mr.  Adair^  *n<jl 


Alf OTHER  PEOPOSAl-AVOIDAJiCK  391 

tell  her  I  shall  come,  unless  something  inforeseen  pre 

vents." 

The  next  evening  came  and  Mr.  Wright  tock  Berria 
around  tc  Mrs.  Merrill's,  she  impressing  upon  him  the 
fact  that  he  must  call  for  her  at  twelve  or  haif-past, 
hoping  thus  to  prevent  a  t^te-4-t^te  with  her  quondam 
lover. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  little  social  gathering,  and 
Berrie  enjoyed  it  as  well  as  she  could  do  anything  just 
now,  when  she  was  so  restless,  troubled,  and  dissatis- 
fied. She  had  been  singing  rather  late  in  the  evening, 
and  when  she  arose  from  the  piano  Mrs.  Merrill  said  : 
"  Sing  something,  Eugene,  won't  you  ?  We  have  had 
go  much  to  talk  about,  you  haven't  sung  for  me  since 
you  came  home." 

"  I  haven't  sung  much  of  late,  anyway,"  he  returned. 
"  Have  you  any  old-fashioned  pieces  here,  Grace? " 

"  Yes,  plenty  of  them  at  the  bottom  of  that  pile." 

Mr.  Adair  began  turning  over  the  music,  and  at  last 
placed  a  song  on  the  rack,  and  after  an  elaborate  pre- 
lude, began  the  old,  exquisite  air,  "  Ever  of  thee  I'm 
fondly  dreaming." 

How  pertinent  seemed  the  words  to  the  girl  who  lis- 
tened with  quickly  beating  heart  tc  the  familiar, 
musical  voice !  Equally  as  pertinent  af  one  he  had 
sung  in  the  long  ago,  when,  as  now,  she  wan  in  dcnbt 
about  his  affection  for  her. 

"  Brer  of  thee  I'm  fondly  dreaming  I 

Thy  gentle  voice  my  spirit  doth  cheer. 
Tiioa  art  the  star  that  mildly  beaming, 
Bhone  o'er  my  path  when  all  «ras  dark  and  drewr. 


8d2  ANOTHER  PR  OPOSAL   A  VOLDAJTOB, 

Btill  in  my  heart  thy  form  I  oherioh. 
Every  fond  thought  like  a  bird  fliea  to  ilMi^ 

CMi,  never  till  life  and  memory  shall  pexi«k, 
Can  I  forget  how  dear  thou  art  to  me. 

Mom,  noon,  and  night,  where'er  I  mi^  btiy 

Fondly  I'm  dreaming,  ever  of  thoa. 

**  Ever  of  thee,  when  sadly  and  lonely, 

Wandering  afar,  my  soul  joyed  to  dwalL 
Oh  then  I  felt  I  loved  thee  only, 

AH  seemed  to  fade  before  affection's  spelL 
Tears  have  not  changed  the  love  I  cherish, 

True  as  the  stars  hath  my  heart  been  to  thw^ 
Oh  never  till  life  and  raemoiy  shall  perish, 

Can  I  forget  how  dear  thou  art  to  me. 
Mom,  noon,  and  night,  where'er  I  may  be, 
Fondly  I'm  dreaming,  ever  of  thee." 

Scarcely  was  the  song  ended,  when  a  message  wm 
conveyed  to  Miss  Burton  that  a  gentleman  was  waiting 
for  her,  and  taking  quiet  leave  of  her  hostess,  she 
hastily  took  her  departure ;  while  Mr.  Adair,  when  be- 
coming aware  of  her  absence,  felt  more  vexed  and  dis- 
appointed than  he  cared  to  betray.  He  had  counted 
much  on  escorting  her  home  on  that  evening,  and  thus 
finding  opportunity  for  saying  what  he  wished,  but  hmd 
-iiai  Car  been  enable  to  do. 


■^ 


CHAPTER  XyXTT, 

AT  dEOSS-PITRPOSES — DESPONDEHCBL 

"  Trifles  light  as  air, 

Are  to  the  jealoos,  confirmation  strong 

A»  proof  of  holy  writ" 

Shajcbbpbask 


•*  And  yet,  believe  me,  good  as  well  aa  ill, 
Woman  's,  at  best,  a  contradiction  still." 


FOFB. 


[ERRIE  saw  no  more  of  Ned  for  several  days, 
when,  to  her  relief,  he  presented  himself  at 
her  sister's,  with  no  perceptible  difference  in 
look  and  manner,  with  no  seeming  remembrance  of  the 
subject  of  their  last  conversation.  He  had  fought  out 
his  pain  and  disappointment  in  those  few  brief  days, 
and  was  his  old  gay  self  again. 

Probably  he  would  never  meet  a  woman  who  would 
be  quite  so  dear  to  him  as  Miss  Berrie  Burton,  but  love 
»nd  marriage  were  not  a  necessity  to  his  happiness, 
and  doubtless  he  would  never  have  come  to  the  point 
of  proposing  for  the  girl's  hand,  had  it  not  been  sug- 
gested to  him  by  his  brother-in-law's  careless  remark 
on  the  occasion  of  their  last  interview. 
Berrie  was  greatly  relieved  Ihat  the  afEair  bad  ter* 
17* 


894        ^T  OR088-PURP0SE8—DBSP0NDEN0B. 

minated  as  amicably  as  it  evidently  had  done,  for  sht 
prized  Ned  very  highly  as  a  dear  and  true  friend,  and 
apart  from  her  dislike  to  cause  him  pain,  was  a  strong 
desire  that  the  pleasant  relations  existing  between  them 
foi  60  long  might  still  continue,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
tallmate  connection  the  families  must  necessarily  sus- 
toir  to  each  other,  through  the  marriage  of  Charlie 
*nd  Maud. 

Berrie  was  passing  through  the  hall  on  her  way  up- 
•tairs,  tlie  Saturday  following  the  evening  she  had 
spent  at  Mrs.  Merrill's,  when  the  servant  admitted  a 
lad  bearing  a  note  for  Miss  Burton.  Berrie,  recogniz- 
ing the  familiar  handwriting  of  her  old-time  love,  tore 
it  open  where  she  stood,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  No,  —  Worc«rt«r  St ,  Borton. 

"  Dkajb  Bekkie  : 

"  Will  you  please  inform  me  by  the 
bearer,  on  what  day  of  next  week  I  may  have  the 
pleasure  of  taking  you  to  see  my  new  picture  on  ex- 
hibition at  Williams  &  Everett's,  and  oblige 

"  Your  true  friend, 

"  EnosNB  Adaib." 
**  Miss  Beebie  Burton." 

Berrie  pondered  a  moment,  then  stepping  to  tn 
basement  stairs,  called  to  her  sister  who  was  m   the 
dining  room  below, 

"What  is  it,  Berrie?"  her  sister  replied  from  the 
foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  I  have  a  note  from  Mr.  Adair,  desiring  to  know 


AT  OBOHS-PDRPOSES-DBaPONDENOB.       895 

what  day  I  will  go  to  see  his  picture.  I  wouid  like 
jrou  to  go  at  the  same  time;  when  do  you  think 
George  could  take  you  ? " 

Belle  thought  a  moment,  then  replied:  "I  ion't 
know,  I  am  sure  1  On  Tuesday  as  well  as  any  day, 
I  suppose.  Thursday  is  Christmas,  you  know,  and 
Hattie  will  be  coming  on  Wednesday." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  say  Tuesday  then." 

She  stepped  to  the  hat-rack  in  the  hall,  and  taking  a 
card  from  the  basket  there,  wrote  hastily  on  the  back 
of  it,  "Tuesday.  11  a.  m. — B.  B." — and  without 
glancing  at  the  face  of  it,  passed  it  to  the  boy  in  wait- 
ing, desiring  him  to  give  it  to  Mr.  Adair. 

What  was  Mr.  Adair's  chagrin,  when,  after  reading 
the  pencilled  reply  on  the  back  of  the  card,  he  turned 
it  over,  to  find  Ned  Lester's  name  engraved  on  the 
face.  It  seemed  to  him  at  the  moment,  scarcely  less 
than  an  insult,  and  he  fancied  she  had  sent  it  to  give 
him  an  intimation  of  how  matters  stood,  and  how  vain 
it  would  be  for  him  to  seek  a  renewal  of  the  old  rela- 
tions between  them. 

"  I  will  not  trouble  herl"  he  thought,  bitterly.  «  I 
have  tried  my  best,  two  or  three  times  since  my  re- 
turn, to  find  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  her,  but 
she  invariably  manages  to  prevent  it  in  one  way  or 
another,  and  I  will  wait  now  until  there  seems  to  be 
some  chance  of  success." 

He  tossed  the  card  in  the  fire,  and  left  the  room  and 
the  house. 

Mr.  Adair  was  prompt  to  time  on  the  following 
Tuesday,  and  Berrie  did  not  keep  him  waiting  lopg, 


)06        ^T  0R088-PUBP0SE8^DE8P0NDRS0M. 

but  came  down  looking  beautifully  in  a  black  v«1tM 
walking  dress,  and  hat,  and  the  handsome  ermine  capeit 
In  which  Mr.  Hanam  had  found  her  so  irresistible. 

Her  sister,  to  her  annoyance,  was  somewhat  indis- 
posed, and  she  was  obliged,  much  against  her  inclina- 
tion, to  accompany  him  alone. 

I  think  she  could  not  have  explained,  had  she  been 
desired  to  do  so,  her  reluctance  to  remain  a  moment 
alone,  with  one  who  was  still  bO  dear  to  her.  Did  she 
dread  a  renewal  of  their  old  relations  to  each  other  i 
Did  she  shrink  from  an  explanation  which  might  re- 
store the  love  and  confidence  between  them  that  had 
existed  when  he  bade  her  a  tender  farewell  four  years 
previous  ?  Did  she  distrust  her  own  self-control  when 
no  restraint  was  imposed  upon  them  by  the  presence 
of  others  ?  She  would  not  have  confessed  that  either 
motive  was  the  cause,  and  therefore  we  must  set  it 
down  to  the  indescribable  instinct  or  emotion,  which 
prompts  a  woman  so  frequently  to  act  in  direct  contra- 
diction to  her  impulses  or  desires. 

Berrie  was,  or  pretended  to  be,  in  her  gayest  mood, 
and  contrived  to  prevent  anything  tending  toward  seri- 
©UB  conversation  during  their  brief  drive  down-town, 
And  of  course  while  they  remained  in  the  exhibition- 
room  there  was  no  opportunity  for  approaching  the 
dreaded  subject. 

The  jncture  which  was  the  object  of  their  visit,  wa« 
dulv  studied  and  admired,  and  Bertie  could  not  avoid 
feeling  just  the  least  trifle  proud  of  her  companion,  ai 
the  whisper  that  he  was  the  "  artist  Adair,"  began  U 
be  circulated  through  the  rooms. 


AT  OROBB-PURP08SS-DB8PONDENOM.        397 

At  last  he  said,  laughing :  "  It  is  becoming  rather 
nncomf ortable  here,  Berrio ;  I  think  we  will  go,,  if  you 
are  willing." 

Berrie  signified  her  readiness,  sajing  archly :  "That 
if  one  of  the  delights  of  being  famous,  Mr.  Adair." 

"  I  suppose  so  I  "  he  returned.  "  Have  you  visited 
the  Athenaeum  this  season,  Berrie  f  if  not,  we  will  go 
in  for  a  while,  if  you  like." 

Berrie  had  not  been,  and  did  like,  therefore  they 
drove  down  to  Beacon  Street,  and  spent  an  hour  or  so 
in  those  delightful  rooms,  crowded  with  works  of  art, 
which  could  but  gratify  the  most  fastidious  eyes. 

As  they  were  driving  homeward  about  three  o'clock, 
Berrie  said :  "  I  expect  Hattie  in  to-morrow  for  the 
holidays,  Mr.  Adair.  You  must  call  and  see  her ;  she 
will  be  glad  to  welcome  you  home,  for  she  is  a  great 
friend  to  yoa^  I  assure  you,"  laughing. 

"  I  shall  certainly  do  myself  the  honor  to  call ;  for 
constant  friends,  I  find,  are  very  rare,"  a  little  bitterly, 

Berrie  could  have  echoed  his  remark,  bat  returned 
serenely  :  "  You  were  always  rather  sceptical  as  to  the 
endurance  of  friendship,  Mr.  Adair,  I  remember,  but 
you  will  fj»d  that  Hattie  is  proof  of  its  being  a  possi* 
bility ;  she  is  very  true  in  her  allegiance  to  you." 

"  That  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  all  my  friends  1 " 
with  a  little  bitter  laugh.  "  But  I  am  very  glad,  as 
•uredly,  that  Hattie  is  still  true,  and  shall  certainly  do 
my  best  to  retain  so  constant  a  friend.  Please  give 
h<ar  my  kindest  regards  when  she  arrives,  and  say  that 
1  thall  make  an  early  attempt  to  renew  cor  acofiaint* 


598         -^T  CE0SS-PUR1'08ES-D3SP0M>EN0B. 

Berrie  had  winced  under  his  scornful  exclanuitioQ 
and  bitter  laugh,  and  a  sharp  retort  trembled  on  he? 
lips,  but  controlling  herself,  she  replied  calmly :  "  She 
will  feel  highly  flattered,  I  can  assure  you  ;  she  often 
•peaks  of  how  you  used  to  tease  her  and  pull  her  curls, 
and  says  she  thought  you  provoking  and  delightful  in 
a  breath." 

"  Yes  1  we  used  to  have  some  battles,  I  believe.  Ig 
she  as  fond  of  her  sister  Berrie  as  she  used  to  be  ? " 

"  Yery  nearly,  I  think.     Hattie  is  a  nice  little  girh" 

"  She  promised  to  be  when  a  child.  I  was  greatly 
interested  in  her." 

There  was  a  silence  of  some  moments,  then  Mr. 
Adair  remarked  :  "  You  do  not  visit  my  sister  very  fre- 
quently, Berrie  1 " 

"  I  have  not  of  late,  no  !  Have  been  very  busy  assist- 
ing Belle  and  Maud  prepare  for  Christmas.  An  un- 
married sister  is  quite  an  acquisition  to  a  family,  you 
must  know,"  she  added,  laughing. 

"  Doubtless !  "  he  returned  absently  ;  and  but  little 
more  was  said  until  the  carriage  drew  up  at  her  own 
door.  After  assisting  her  to  aUght,  he  held  her  hand 
iu  a  tight  grasp  for  a  moment,  and  looked  into  her  eyet 
with  a  searching,  almost  stern  expression  in  his  own, 
and  with  lips  sharply  compressed. 

She  1  eturned  the  glance  for  an  instant,  almcet  deli- 
antly,  then  laughed  provokingly,  and  drawing  her  hand 
Eway,  ran  up  the  steps,  saying  gayly  :  "  It  is  very  cold 
to-day  1  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Adair,"  and  without  a 
backward  look,  entered  the  vestibule. 

"  Well  f "  Baid  Mrs.  Merrill  inquiringly,  as  her  brothe/ 


AT  OBO8S-PURP0SE8—DESP0NLXNOE.        399 

entered  the  room  where  she  was  sitting,  somewhat  later 
in  the  day. 

"  "Well  ? "  he  echoed,  looking  rather  moody,  aa  ha 
drew  a  chair  close  to  the  register,  and  sat  down. 

"  Don't  tell  me,  Eugene,  that  she  has  refused  you  1 " 
said  the  lady  anxiously,  as  she  arose  and  came  toward 
her  brother. 

"  I  have  not  asked  her !  "  he  returned  quietly. 

"  O  Eugene !  I  supposed  it  would  be  all  settled  to- 
day.    Tou  suTely  had  sufficient  opportunity." 

"  Why  no !  I  do  not  know  that  I  did.  She  contrived 
to  make  the  conversation  very  commonplace  daring 
the  drive  both  ways ;  and  besides,  I  have  no  reason  to 
think  I  should  be  successful,  did  I  have  an  opportunity 
to  speak  to  her.  She  is  like  the  rest  of  her  faithless 
sex,  I  suppose,  as  fickle  and  inconstant  as  the  wind." 

"  Eugene  Adair  I  what  a7'e  you  talking  about  1  You 
know  it  is  no  such  thing ;  and  even  if  it  were,  she  has 
plenty  of  excuses  in  your  seeming  desertion  while  you 
were  abroad,  and  failm'e  to  seek  an  explanation  imme< 
diately  on  your  return." 

"  Well,  what  could  I  do,  more  than  I  have  ?  I  called 
there  the  day  following  my  return,  and  she  was  away, 
purposely,  I  have  no  doubt.  I  called  again  on  the  day 
•ucceeding,  and  Mrs.  Wright  remained  in  the  loom 
during  my  entire  visit.  The  next  evening  she  was 
here,  but  successfully  avoided  my  escort  home,  and 
when  I  wrote  on  Saturday  to  ask  when  I  should  take 
her  to  see  my  picture,  she  sent  the  reply  written  on  the 
back  of  Ned  Lester's  card,  which  by  the  way.  I  consid- 
ered quite  suggestive  to  say  the  least.     And  to-day  th« 


400         ^T  OROSf^PURPOSEa—DESPONDBNOB. 

reenlt  of  our  companionship  was  what  I  have  previoujiijr 
stated." 

"All  of  which  amounts  to  nothing!  You  should 
have  contrived  on  the  evening  of  Mrs.  Mitchell's  party, 
to  tell  her  that  you  should  call  the  following  morning, 
and  wished  to  see  hei  alone,  instead  of  distinctly  stat* 
ing,  as  you  did,  that  you  should  call  soon  to  see  Mrs. 
Wright ;  and  which,  by  the  way,  I  presume  sli^  consid- 
ered quite  suggestive,  and  excused  her  absence  on  the 
occasion  of  your  first  call.  Failing  in  this,  you  might 
have  written  her  a  note  the  next  day,  to  the  same  effect. 
In  fact,  there  are  a  dozen  ways  in  which  you  might  have 
brought  matters  to  a  crisis.  The  truth  is,  Eugene,  you 
are  too  much  afraid  you  shall  let  her  know  that  you 
love  her  still ;  and  never  as  long  as  you  both  live,  will  you 
win  a  similar  confession  from  her,  until  you  have  shown 
to  her  conclusively  that  you  do  care  for  her,  and  that 
the  possession  of  her  love  is  what  you  most  desire." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do  1 "  she  continued,  aft«r 
a  pause.  "  I  will  invite  her  here  Christmas  Day,  and 
contrive  that  you  shall  have  an  opportunity.  You  shall 
not  have  that  for  an  excuse,  after  that." 

"  She  would  not  come.  She  expects  her  sister  Hattie 
home  to-morrow,  and  that  will  be  sufficient  excuse  foi 
her  to  refuse." 

"  "Well,  I  will  innte  Ilattie  toa  ' 

"  You  can  do  so,  if  you  like,  but  I  am  positive  it  will 
be  of  no  avail." 

"  We  shall  see,  my  dear  brother,  we  shall  see  I  Trust 
»  woman  in  such  matter*  as  that,"  she  laughed.  "  1  can 
brmg  Miss  Berrie  to  terras,  if  you  cannot,  I  warrant.*' 


CHAPTEK  ^yym. 

CHEI8TBIA8 — BETEOTHAL, 

**  I  a«imot  but  remember  saoh  things  were, 

And  were  most  precious  to  me." 

Shakssfeabk 

"  l8  it  thee  I  hold  at  last? 
Or  hath  the  weariness  of  hope  deferred 
O'erthrown  my  reason  f  " 

J.  0.  HKTWOon. 

RE  the  ladies  in  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Merrill,  the  fol. 
lowing  afternoon,  as  she  stood  with  her  brother 
on  the  steps  of  Mrs.  Wright's  residence,  adding, 
as  she  received  an  affirmative  reply  and  stepped  in  the 
hall :  "  Please  say  that  I  should  like  to  see  them  all. 
Miss  Hattie  included,  if  she  has  arrived,"  and  she 
handed  her  own  and  her  brother's  card  to  the  servant  in 
waiting. 

Berrie  and  Hattie  came  down  immediately,  and  Mm 
Wright  followed  soon. 

**  My  sister  Hattie,  Mrs.  Merrill  I  "  said  Berrie,  mtro- 

dncing  the  tall,  pretty  young  girl  that  accompanied  her. 

"  How  do  you  do,  my  dear  ?   I  am  very  glad  to  meet 

a  sifiter  )f  Mias  Barton's,  and  am  surf)  we  shall  be  very 


403  OmilSTMAS-BETROTHAL. 

good  friends,  shall  we  not,  Misa  Hattie  ? "  smiled  thfl 
lady. 

"I  trust  so,  Mrs.  Merrill,"  retarned  the  girl,  a  little 
ihyly.     "  I  always  love  Berne's  friends." 

"  Your  old  fi'iend,  Mr.  Adair,  Hattie,"  continued 
Berrie.  "  I  was  telling  him  yesterday  you  had  never 
wavered  in  your  allegiance  to  him,"  she  laughed. 

"  And  is  this  really  the  little  girl  I  left  four  years 
ago  ? "  said  the  gentleman,  as  he  bent  over  the  little 
hand  of  the  girl.  "  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  to  begin 
back  in  our  acquaintance,  you  have  grown  so  out  of  my 
recollection." 

"  Yes  \ "  she  returned  archly,  but  a  little  shyly,  as 
she  tossed  back  her  ringlets.  "  But  I  am  the  same 
Hattie  you  used  to  delight  to  tease,  Mr.  Adair." 

He  laughed.  "  So  you  have  not  forgotten  our  old 
battles.  Miss  Hattie  1 " 

"  No  indeed !  nor  how  my  curls  used  to  get  pulled 
when  I  was  saucy." 

"  Allow  me.  Miss  Hattie  1 "  and  he  placed  a  chair  for 
her  near  the  one  in  which  he  had  been  sitting. 

"  So  you  really  did  come  back  1 "  she  said,  laughing, 
while  the  ladies  were  conversing  together  on  matters  in 
wliich  neither  were  interested. 

"  I  really  did,  yes !  "  he  returned  smiling.  "  Didn't 
^  ou  expect  1  would  ? " 

"^  I  do  not  know ;  four  or  five  years  looked  a  long 
time  to  me  when  yoi  went  away ;  and  we  misfied  you 
very  much,  Mr.  Adair." 

"Did  you?  It  is  pleasant  to  be  missed,  joi 
know  I " 


OffBISTMAS-BETROTIIAL.  408 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so  1  Do  you  find  my  UBtei  changed, 
Mr.  Adair?" 

•'  Berrie,  do  you  mean  ?  *' 

"  Berrie,  yes  sir  I  " 

"  Somewhat,  yes  I  but  more  in  manner  than  in  face,** 

"  She  is  not  nearly  as  gay  as  she  used  to  be.  She  f  eh 
ma's  and  pa's  death  so  much  I "  and  the  arch,  piquant 
little  face  looked  very  grave  for  the  moment. 

"  As  you  must  all  do  necessarily  1  I  felt  so  sorry  for 
you  all  when  I  heard  of  it  in  Venice.  I  could  not  re- 
alize that  it  were  possible,"  said  the  gentleman,  sym- 
pathetically. 

"  I  scarcely  can,  even  yet.  Berrie  is  all  the  mother 
I  have  got  now,"  and  the  sweet  lips  trembled  percep- 
tibly. 

"  Miss  Burton,"  said  Mrs.  Merrill  at  this  juncture, 
"  I  want  you  and  your  little  sister  to  dine  with  me  to- 
morrow, and  spend  the  evening." 

"  Thanks,  Mrs.  Merrill  1  you  are  very  kind — " 

"  No  refusal,  now.  Miss  Berrie  1 "  interposed  the  lady 
playfully,  "  I  will  not  accept  it.  I  want  you  and  I 
must  Jiave  you." 

"  In  that  case,"  smiled  Berrie,  "  I  suppose  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say  about  it." 

"  Nothing  at  all,  only  to  say  that  you  will  come,"  she 
returned  laughingly. 

"  I  don't  know  about  letting  you  have  both  of  them  ;'^ 
laid  Mrs.  Wright ;  "you  had  better  take  Berrie,  and  let 
Hattie  remain  with  me." 

"  No  indeed  1  I  want  them  both.  You  can  have 
them  afterwards,  but  I  have  set  my  heart  on  their  eat* 


404  CHRISTMAS—BETROTHAL. 

Ing  their  Christraag  dinner  with  me,  and  I  always  havf 
my  own  way,  don't  I,  Eugene  ?  "  she  laughed. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  do,  Gracie,"  returned  the  gentl© 
man,  emiling.    "  I  believe  we  aiways  spoiled  joa  a  lit- 
tle." 

"  Well,  it  ifl  nice  to  be  spoiled  by  those  one  loves ; 
isn't  it,  little  girl  ?  "  she  finished,  turning  to  Hattie. 

«  I  thmk  it  is,  Mrs.  Memll." 

"  And  you  will  come  and  dine  with  me  Christmai 
Day?" 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to,  thank  yon,  if  Berrie  will 
go,"  said  the  little  girl. 

"  And  Berrie  will,  I  am  sure  !  won't  you  dear  ?  " 

"  What  will  you  do  to  me  if  I  say  no  ? " 

"  Come  and  drag  you  off,  nolens-volens." 

"  Then  I  think  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  acquiesce 
gracefully,  and  keep  my  dignity  intact,"  she  laughed. 

"  It  is,  decidedly  1 "  returned  the  lady.  "  I  am 
glad  to  find  you  so  sensible." 

"  We  shall  dine  early,  and  I  will  send  a  carriage  and 
my  big  brother,  here,  around  for  you  about  four  o'clock," 
she  said,  as  she  was  taking  leave. 

"  Do  you  allow  your  sister  to  dispose  of  you  thus 
iumraarily,  Mr.  Adair,  without  consulting  you  in  the 
'east  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Wright  playfully. 

"  Gracie  does  with  me  about  as  she  pleases,"  he  re- 
tnmed  smiling,  "  and  she  is  aware  that  nothing  «onld 
afford  me  more  pleasure  than  to  escort  my  young 
friends  to  her  house." 

"Good-by  until  to-morrow,  Berrie!"  he  said  in  a 
low  tone,  as  he  pressed  her  hand  warmly  in  farewell 


VHRISTMAS-  BETROTHAL.  404 

*  And  allow  me  to  express  ray  exceeding  jratification 
in  yonr  acceptance  of  my  sister's  invitation,  though  it 
may  have  been  somewhat  forced."  And  he  looked  into 
her  eyes  with  a  glance  eloquent  of  the  strong  love  for 
hei  which  had  made  her  heart  so  glad,  and  softened 
the  pangs  of  parting  more  than  four  years  ago. 

"  Well,  you  see  I  accomplished  my  object,  Eugene  I  *' 
»aid  his  sister  laughingly,  as  they  were  walking  home- 
wards. 

"  I  see  you  did,  yes  !  much  to  my  surprise  and  grat- 
ification." 

"  And  which  I  probably  should  not  have  done,  if  1 
had  sent  you  instead  of  going  myself.  She  would  have 
refused  the  invitation  at  the  outset,  and  you  would 
have  been  too  proud  to  urge  its  acceptance." 

"  While  you  took  her  by  storm,"  he  retorted,  "  and 
compelled  her  to  surrender  whether  she  liked  or  not." 

"  Exactly  1  "  she  returned  serenely.  "  And  all  on 
your  account,  my  faint-hearted  brother.  And  now," 
she  added  threateningly,  "  if  you  don't  make  the  most 
of  the  opportunity,  and  bring  the  young  lady  to  terms, 
you  deserve  to  lose  her,  and  I  wash  my  hands  of  yonr 
oflFairs." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Adair  is  just  splendid  1 "  said  Hatt's, 
wiien  they  were  gone.  "  So  handsome,  and  noble,  and 
distinguished  looking,  and  just  as  agreeable  as  he  can 
be.     I  am  glad  we  are  going  there  to-morrow." 

"  Don't  be  too  enamored  of  him,  Hattie,  or  Berrie 
will  be  jealous,"  laughed  Belle. 

"  Oh,  I  have  a  right  to  go  into  ecstacies  over  my  fu- 
ture brother,  hayen't  It"  and  she  glanced  mischieT' 


406  CnmSTMAS-BETROTHAL 

ouslj  at  her  Bister,  who  colored  rosily,  and  answered  * 
"  Don't  talk  nonsense,  Hattie  1  Come  upstairs,  and  let' 
me  try  your  black  silk  dress,  and  see  if  it  requires  adj 
alteration.  I  suppose  that  is  all  you  have  suitable  t© 
wear  to-morrow.  You  must  have  some  nefl^  dresses, 
and  I  think  might  begin  to  wear  colors  now ;  don't  yon, 
iJelle?" 

"  Why  yes,  I  think  so  1  it  is  nearly  a  year  and  a  half 
since  we  put  on  mourning." 

"  Have  you  left  it  off,  Berrie  ? "  asked  Hattie. 

"  I  have  not  put  on  colors  yet,  but  have  worn  black 
velvet  and  lavender  ribbons,  once  or  twice." 

Berrie's  heart  beat  in  little  thrills  the  remainder  of 
that  day,  and  the  fore  part  of  the  next,  and  she  could 
not  avoid  thinking  of  the  last  expressive  glance  of  her 
friend,  and  recalling  constantly  the  golden  past,  when 
all  barriers  were  thrown  aside,  and  she  was  so  happy 
in  her  acknowledged  and  reciprocated  affection. 

She  could  not  have  told  what  she  anticipated  from 
the  promised  visit,  but  she  was  in  that  delightful  state 
of  pleasant  expectation,  when  one  feels  that  there  is  a 
great  good  in  store,  or  something  exceedingly  jo}'ful 
about  to  occur, — which  makes  the  hours  pass  tardily, 
gnd  fills  tlie  heart  with  a  nameless  delight,  often  more 
thrilling  and  sweet  than  the  actual  and  realized  bliss 

Mr.  Adair  called  for  them  soon  after  the  appointed 
tirjie,  and  when  Berrie  came  into  the  room,  somewhat 
in  advance  of  her  sister,  and  playfully  extended  both 
hands  in  greeting,  on  one  of  which  sparkled  his  ring — 
and  which  he  had  not  seen  before  since  his  return — he 
could   not   repress  the  passionate   exclamation,  "  My 


CHRISTMAS-BETROTRAL.  407 

ffoUy-Beri'y  !  "  which  brongh.t  a  most  becoming  fluah 
to  the  fair  girl's  cheek,  and  caused  her  uplifted  eyes 
to  droop  beneath  the  old,  tender  gaze  of  his. 

Hattie's  immediate  entrance  prevented  anything 
more  demonstrative  at  that  time,  but  Berrie's  heart 
beat  a  trifle  faster  than  it  had  done  before,  and  the  rose 
his  words  had  called  to  her  cheek,  never  left  it  till  sleep 
kissed  away  the  flushes,  and  hushed  the  rapidly-beating 
heart  to  its  ordinary  quiet  pulsations. 

The  hour  before  dinner  passed  away  very  pleasantly 
Mr.  Adair  exerted  all  his  powers  of  fascination,  Mr&, 
Merrill  was  her  own  gay  self,  Berrie  was  in  her  most 
sparkling  and  witching  mood,  and  Hattie  the  same 
piquant,  saucy  little  girl  of  old,  and  the  gay  conversa- 
tion never  flagged.  When  dinner  was  over,  and  they 
returned  to  the  parlors,  Mr.  Adair  brought  out  his 
Italian  sketches,  and  in  looking  at,  admiring,  and  lis- 
tening to  explanations  of  them  by  the  gifted  artist,  an- 
other hour  was  pleasantly  filled,  and  then  Mrs.  Merrill 
exclaimed :  "  That  picture  of  Rome  reminds  me  of 
some  exquisite  cameos,  mosaics,  and  pearls  that  my 
brother  brought  me  from  there.  Wouldn't  you  like  to 
•ee  them,  Hattie  %  " 

"  Yes  indeed,  very  much,  if  it  is  not  too  much 
trouble." 

"Well,  come  upstairs  with  me  then,  and  we  will 
look  them  over." 

"May  I  not  go  too,  please,  Mrs.  Merrill?"  asked 
Berrie,  with  the  old  shrinking  from  being  left  alone 
with  her  old-time  lover- 

**  No,  indeed  1  '*  i:etunied  the  lady  laughing.    "  Yoi 


408  CHRISTMAS— BETROTHAL, 

mnst  stay  here  and  keep  my  big  brother  cut  A  iii» 
chief." 

"  Berrie  don't  care  for  jewels,"  said  Hattie,  and  the 
girl  was  left  behind 

Mr.  Adair  closed  the  door  after  his  sister  and  her 
little  guest,  crossed  the  room  and  drew  a  long  spray  of 
holly  from  a  large  antique  vase  which  he  had  brought 
from  Italy,  then  approaching  his  companion,  he  play- 
fully wound  it  round  her  head,  saying :  "  Do  you  re- 
member, Berrie,  how  I  used  to  wish  in  the  old  days, 
to  see  you  crowned  with  holly-berries  ? " 

"  Yes  I  "  was  the  low  reply. 

"  Come  and  see  the  effect." 

He  drew  her  gently  from  her  chair,  and  with  his  arm 
unresisted  around  her  waist,  led  her  to  the  long  mirror. 

"  Look  1  my  little  girl  I  is  not  that  the  very  imperBO 
nation  of  my  '  Holly-Berries  ? '  " 

The  girl  glanced  up  at  the  glowing  reflection  of  her- 
self in  the  large  pier-glass,  and  returned  with  something 
of  the  old  confusion  of  manner :  "  I  suppose  it  is,  Mr. 
Adair,  or  would  be  if  my  jacket  was  scarlet  instead  of 
white." 

She  was  looking  exceedingly  well  in  the  sweeping 
dress  of  black  velvet  which  she  had  worn  at  Mrs. 
Mitchell's  on  the  evening  of  his  return,  and  which  fell 
around  her  graceful  form  in  such  rich,  heavy  folds  as 
velvet  alone  can  assume  ;  but  she  had  drawn  a  dainty 
lehite  cashmere  jacket,  richly  embroidered  with  black, 
md  which  was  exquisitely  becoming — over  the  bare 
neck  and  arms  which  the  low  cut  dress  had  left  ex- 
posed; lavender  libbons  completed  her  rich  biit  simple 


CHRISTMAS- BETBOFHAL.  409 

ittire,  and  the  gleaming  wreath  of  holly,  who«e  berriet 
matched  in  hue  the  scarlet  of  her  cheeks,  all  together 
made  a  picture  as  beautiful  and  attractive  as  any  matk 
eould  desire  to  look  upon. 

They  stood  in  silence  for  a  moment,  the  girl  with 
downcast  eyes  and  drooping  head,  the  man  half  intoxi- 
cated with  the  joy  of  holding  her  once  more  in  hia 
ftrms,  after  the  long,  weary  years  of  separation  and 
partial  estrangement ;  then  he  said  softly  : — 

"  Berrie ! " 

She  half  looked  up  without  reply,  and  lifting  with 
his  disengaged  hand  the  rounded  chin,  he  said  tenderly : 
"  Do  you  remember  the  day  we  parted,  little  girl,  over 
four  years  ago  ? " 

•*  Yes,  Eugene  1 "  was  the  low  reply,  calling  him  by 
his  christian  name  for  the  first  time  since  his  return. 

"  And  do  you  love  me  now  as  then,  even  as  I  do  you^ 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul?" 

For  reply  she  hid  her  face  against  his  shoulder,  say- 
ing softly :  "  You  did  not  trust  me,  Eugene  I  You 
cannot  blame  me  if  I  do  not." 

"  But  you.  do,  I  know,  else  you  would  not  permit  me 
to  hold  you  here.  Thank  God  I "  he  added  reverently, 
*'  for  having  kept  us  for  each  other,  and  united  us  at 
kst' 

He  held  her  for  a  moment  in  silence,  then  said  play- 
Colly,  as  he  kissed  her  tenderly:  "  This  is  our  betrothal, 
my  love  I     I  leave  you  free  no  longer." 

*  You  should  not  have  done  before.  You  have  put 
my  love  tu  some  severe  tests,  Eugene." 

^  I  i^ai'  I  have  ;   and  my  sister  says  I  do  not  deserve 
18 


410  CHRISTMAS— BETROTHAL. 

you.  Bat  it  has  come  out  clear  and  tme^  as  gold  that 
has  passed  through  the  purifying  fira " 

He  drew  her  to  a  seat,  and  the  cause  of  their  mutiutl 
lilence  was  speedily  and  satisfactorily  explained. 

"  And  so  I  came  home,"  he  concluded,  "  trembling 
between  hope  and  fear,  to  find  my  artless  little  girl 
transformed  into  a  polished,  self-possessed  woman, 
wearing  an  armor  of  pride  which  I  almost  feared  was 
invulnerable.  But  it  is  all  right  at  last,  and  now  after 
the  waiting  time,  comes  the  perfect  sweetness  of  '  hope's 
fruition.'  God  is  very  good,  is  He  not,  dear  ?  to  have 
kept  us  in  health  and  safety  through  the  testing  years 
of  sepaiation,  and  to  allow  us  to  meet  once  more  un- 
der such  happy  and  promising  auspices.  I,  at  least, 
cannot  thank  Him  enough,  for  His  best  and  rarest  giff 
— a  true  woman." 

"  So  you  do  believe,  at  last,  Eugene,  \,haf  a  constant 
woman  is  at  least  a  possibility!"  she  returned  play- 
fully. 

"  Yea,  Berrie,  you  have  taught  me  a  new  faith  in 
your  sex,  and  shown  me  that  there  is  truth  in  w^oman'i 
love." 

"  And  you  won't  distrust  or  be  jealous  of  me  any 
more  ? "  archly. 

"  I  shall  try  not,  darling,  but  you  must  remember  my 
weakness,  and  humor  the  old  man  a  Kttle  ;  and  I  don't 
think  I  shall  admit  any  gentlemen  friends  into  my 
house  too  freely." 

Berrie  was  hurt,  and  drew  away,  saying  bitterly: 
"  You.  do  not  trust  me,  even  yet,  or  love  me  either,  I 
might  say,  if  you  think  me  capable  of  being  false  to  my 


CHRISTMAS-BETROTHAL.  411 

marriage  tows.     Have  you  not  tested  me  Bafficientlj 
yet  f  »• 

"  Forgive  me,  Berrie,  I  do  not  think  you  capable  of 
!)eing  untrue.  I  know  you  are  no  Olara,  and  I  trust 
you,  dear,  as  I  have  done  no  other  living  woman ; ''  and 
unresisted  he  drew  her  close  again. 

"  Do  you  know  I  am  getting  an  old  man,  Berrie  ? " 
he  continued  after  a  pause.  "  Forty  next  birthday,  lit- 
tle girl ;  think  of  that?" 

"  Nonsense,  Eugene  ! "  she  laughed.  "  You  are 
plenty  young,  and  besides,  will  renew  your  age  when 
you  have  a  young  wife  to  pet  you." 

"  I  would  not  wonder,  love,  I  would  not  wonder  I " 
he  murmured,  tenderly  stroking  the  holly-crowned  head 
of  the  girl  at  his  side. 

"  And  when  is  that  to  be,  Berrie  ? "  he  added  after 
a  moment. 

«  When  is  what  to  be,  Eugene  ? " 

"  When  am  I  to  have  a  young  wife  to  pet  me  1 " 

"  Oh,  in  two  or  three  years,  I  suppose  I "  she  an» 
swered,  saucily. 

"  Two  or  three  years,  Berrie  I  Make  it  two  or  three 
months  and  I  will  try  and  be  content." 

"  Oh,  that  is  too  soon  !  I  have  not  a  single  dress  but 
black,  and  think  how  long  it  wiU  take  to  have  all  the 
pretty  ones  made,  that  I  shall  require  for  so  important 
an  occasion ;  "  she  laughed. 

"  You  are  a  true  woman,  I  see,  Berrie  I  But  it  is  you 
I  want,  not  the  dresses." 

"I  dare  say!  but  I  want  the  dresses,  yon  see.  I 
jroold  not  like  you  to  feel  ashamed  of  yonr  bride." 


413  CHRISTMAS— BETROTHAL. 

"  No  danger  of  that,  little  ^1,  no  danger  of  that !  1 
want  you  to  spend  the  summer  in  Europe,  and  be  back 
in  your  own  home  in  September,  or  October  at  latesL" 

"  In  Europe  ?  with  you  \  *  My  cup  runneth  over,'  En- 
gene." 

"  My  darling  ! "  passionately,  "  I  am  glad  if  you  are 
pleased  !  So  let  it  be  as  early  as  possible.  I  will  give 
you  until  the  last  of  May  for  your  dresses.  Will  that 
do,  dear  ? " 

"  It  must,  I  suppose,  i£  your  lordship  wills  t "  ehe  re- 
turned laughingly. 

"  So  to-morrow  I  will  bring  you  a  solitaire,  Berne,  to 
replace  this  parting  gift  of  your  friend." 

"  Not  to  replace  it,  Eugene.  This  is  one  of  m_y  dear- 
est treasures.  By  the  way,"  she  added  after  a  mo- 
ment, "  what  has  become  of  your  sister  and  Hattie,  I 
wonder  ? " 

The  gentleman  laughed.  "  My  sister  promised  I 
should  have  an  opportunity  to  '  make  up,'  Berrie,  and 
she  has  kept  her  word.  She  loves  you  dearly,  my  dar- 
ling, and  will  welcome  you  as  a  sister  with  wide-open 
arms." 

"  She  has  been  a  dear  friend  to  me,  both  for  her  own 
sake,  and  the  sake  of  one  she  so  strongly  resembles." 

'^Well,  is  it  all  settled?"  inquired  Mrs.  Merrill 
gayly,  as  she  entered  the  room  a  little  later. 

"  Bat  I  do  not  need  to  ask  I "  she  continued  delight- 
edly, and  taking  the  girl's  blushing  face  between  her 
two  hands,  she  kissed  her  warmly,  saying.  "  God  blesi 
jwu,  my  dear  little  sister,  and  make  you  aa  happy  as  yon 
deserve  to  be." 


OHRIST^AS-BETROTHAL.  «fl 

Then  tx>  her  brother :  "  I  congratulate  j'on  \r.ih  all 
my  h©ai"t,  Edgene,  and  hope  you  will  own  that  I  am  a 
good  manoeuvrer  at  least ;  for  you  must  know,  Berria, 
that  you  were  invited  here  to-day  with  this  special  end  in 
view.  My  faint-hearted  brother,  here,"  she  continued, 
teasingly,  "  stood  in  such  awe  of  his  old-time  love,  that 
I  really  felt  afraid  he  would  lose  her  after  all ;  so  in 
■heer  pity,  you  see,  I  just  did  my  best  to  help  him  along. 
Well,  well,  good  people  !  I  wonder  if  you  are  really  a 
bit  happier  at  this  termination  than  I  am ! "  and  8h« 
sat  down  in  the  nearest  chair. 

Hattie  had  stood  as  if  spell-bound,  hardly  compre- 
hending what  there  was  such  an  ado  about,  until  Mrs. 
Merrill,  catching  sight  of  her  as  she  sat  down,  exclaimed 
laughing :  "  Are  you  astounded,  Hattie  ?  Go  and  kiss 
your  new  brother,  that  is  to  be,  dear,  and  wish  him  all 
the  joy  that  his  marriage  with  your  sister  is  capable  of 
bestowing." 

"  I  didn't  get  far  wrong  yesterday,  did  I,  Berrie  ? " 
gaid  the  sharp  little  girl  archly,  as  she  stepped  to  her 
sister's  side.  Adding :  "  I  am  just  as  glad  as  I  can  be, 
Mr.  Adair,  and  when  you  are  married,  I  will  adopt  yon 
for  my  father." 

There  was  a  general  laugh,  and  Eugene  said  :  "  Yon 
tbink  I  am  old  enough  to  be,  eh,  Hattie  ?  " 

"  Why  no  !  I  don't  think  you  are  very  old,  but  Berm 
ii  my  second  mother,  you  know,  and  so  of  course  I  shaU 
have  to  adopt  you  for  my  father." 

"  Oh,  that  is  it,  eh  ?  Well  suit  yourself  I  brother  oi 
fother,  it  is  all  one  to  me." 

The  remninder  of  the  evening  passed  very  pleasant!/ 


414  OnmSTMAS— BETROTH  A  L. 

and  happily  to  all  parties,  and  the  carriage  which  M& 
Adair  had  ordered  for  twelve  o'clock  came  all  too 
■oon. 

"  This  is  keeping  rather  late  houi-s  for  such  a  little 
girl  as  you,  isn't  it,  Hattie  ? "  said  Mrs.  Merrill,  as  she 
tied  on  the  child's  hat. 

"Rather  later  than  boarding-school  hours,"  she  re- 
tu<med  laughingly,  "  but  you  know  it  is  Christmas  night, 
and  I  am  wide  awake  yet." 

"  So  I  perceive  ! "  answered  the  lady,  laughing.  "  Be 
sure  to  come  around  again  before  you  go  back  to 
school." 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall  like  to.     Good-night  I " 

"  Good-night,  dear  1     Now  don't  keep  Berrie  up  un 
til  daylight,  Eugene,"  she  said  archly,  as  he  ]ed  Berrie 
away ;  "  there  are  plenty  more  days  coming,  in  which 
to  say  all  those  pretty  things  to  her." 

"  I  shall  be  back  immediately  1 "  he  returned,  as  he 
placed  her  in  the  carriage. 

Five  minutes  lingering  in  the  deserted  parlors  of 
Berrie's  home,  with  his  solately  restored  love^ — Hat 
tie  had  considerately  gone  right  upstairs — another  in 
which  to  whisper  his  tender  good-night,  and  Berrie  was 
alone  with  her  great  happiness,  so  long  delayed,  but  so 
perfect  and  sweet  in  the  first  moments  of  \\a  glad  fa^ 
filnneat 


CHAPTER  XXXI7. 

THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  WEDDING — MABKIKD  AND  0F». 

"  The  door-bell  rang  one  of  those  sharp,  startling  peals, 
which  makes  the  heart  leap  with  a  dread  of  painful  new*.* 

A.   S.  STEFHKKa 

"  My  bride, 
My  wife,  my  life  1  oh,  we  will  walk  this  world 
Yoked  in  aU  exercise  of  noble  end, 
And  so  through  those  dark  gates  aoross  the  world 
That  no  man  knows." 

^HE  days  that  followed  were  halcyon  ones  to  tht 
young  girl.  The  short  winter  months  were  one 
^»^'^  dream  of  delight,  and  passed  away  only  too 
fleetly.  Looking  back,  years  after,  to  that  time,  it 
seemed  to  her  no  mortal  ever  experienced  a  greater  de« 
gree  of,  or  more  entire,  happiness  than  did  she.  Wlieu 
the  man  she  loved  had  wooed  her  previous  to  his  de 
parture  for  Europe,  the  ever-conscious  pang  of  parting 
m&  mixed  with  all  her  ecstacy,  while  now  not  a  siuglft 
regret  mingled  with  the  delight  that  fiUed  e^ery  day 
of  their  brief  betrothal.  Loving  each  other  with  a  full 
and  perfect  affection,  they  had  no  lovers'  (^Karr«Li  to 


416         THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  WEDDUfO. 

make  np — she  fouud  her  betrothed  as  devot«d  m  ihi 
could  Ask,  and  he  hie  love  everything  that  he  could  d^ 

Thas  happily  and  swiftly  flew  the  days  and  monthi, 
Aiiid  brcught  a  soft  May  evening — the  one  preceding  the 
bridal.  The  last  garment  was  finished  and  packed,  the 
handsome  travelling  dress  was  all  ready  to  robe  the 
dainty  form  of  the  bride,  and  on  the  morrow  there 
would  be  a  quiet  morning  wedding,  wlien  Charlie  Bur- 
ton would  give  away  his  sister  to  the  man  she  loved  and 
had  chosen  from  all  others,  and  an  ocean  steamer  would 
bear  away  the  happy  couple,  to  spend  their  summer 
honeymoon  among  the  storied  haunts  of  the  world  be- 
yond the  sea. 

It  was  a  perfect  evening,  but  a  few  days  before  the 
birth  of  summer's  initial  month.  The  sun  had  gone 
down  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  leaving  behind  a  cloudless 
Bky,  tinged  at  the  western  horizon  with  the  reflected 
brilliance  of  his  triumphal  departure,  while  in  the  far 
east,  a  band  of  violet  melted  into  a  belt  of  rose,  which 
in  turn  dissolved  into  the  faint  blue  of  the  ether  above. 

In  the  parlor,  arranged  for  the  important  ceremony 
to  take  place  on  the  morrow,  behind  the  lace  curtains 
wh'ch  draped  the  windows  and  fell  around  her  to  the 
floor,  stood  the  fair  young  bride,  watching  the  dying 
day,  and  musing  on  the  change  which  a  few  spoken 
words  would  make  in  her  life,  when,  with  a  start,  she 
recogtr'zed  a  familiar  figure,  and  with  a  little  cry  oi 
pleasure,  hastened  herself  to  admit  her  almost  huft- 
b«nd. 

'^  Yqu  did  not  expect  to  see  me  again  to-night,  did 


TBS  NIOBT  BEFORE  TUE  WSPDIWa.       411 

fOB^  Berrie  t "  he  said,  smiling,  as  they  entered  the 
parlor.  "  I  went  to  purchase  that  important  little  ar- 
ticle, your  wedding  ring,  and  among  so  many  sizes,  1 
found  it  impossible  to  tell  which  would  fit  my  dttlo 
girl's  finger,  so  I  just  ran  round  with  a  couple  to  see.'' 
^d  he  drew  a  tiny  box  from  his  pocket,  and  fitted 
the  heavy  gold  band  to  the  "  wedding-finger"  of  the 
dttle  hand  he  held. 

"  The  smallest  one  fil3  best,  Eugene,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  so  I  perceive.  And  now  I  must  hasten  back, 
m  order  to  have  it  engraved  to-night.  I  ought  to  have 
attended  to  this  matter  before.  I  was  around  at  the 
house  to-night  with  the  carpenter,  and  gave  the  last 
directions  about  its  fitting  up,  and  Grace  has  full  in- 
Rtructions  as  to  the  furnishing.  So  when  we  return 
from  Europe  next  fall,  her  home  will  be  all  ready  for 
my  little  bride.  Good  night,  love  I  God  keep  yon 
safe  until  the  morning ;  *'  and  kissing  her  tenderly,  ho 
took  his  departure,  while  Herrie  glided  back  to  her 
place  in  the  lace  draped  window,  to  watch  the  receding 
form  of  the  man  sho  loved. 

What  a  soft  light  was  in  the  large,  dark  eyes,  what 
a  happy  smile  on  the  sweet  lips,  as  she  gazed  at  the 
tall,  manly  form  of  her  lover,  as  he  walked  briskly 
away,  turning  at  the  corner  to  lift  his  hat  and  kiss  his 
hand  to  the  girl  who  on  the  morrow  would  be  all  his 
own  until  death  should  part  them. 

The  twilight  deepened,  and  a  ring  at  the  bell  ^na 
followed  by  the  entrance  of  lively  Annie  Mitchell, 
who  had  come,  she  eaid,  for  one  lait  chatwitli  km 
^  pretty  cousin." 
18* 


'418    TSB  NIGHT  BBFORS  TEE  WBDDINQ. 

Berrie  lighted  the  gas,  and  sat  down  on  the  sofa  witk 
the  young  girl,  saying  in  surprise  as  the  light  Btrack 
the  face  of  her  cousin:  "Why,  what  is  the  matter^ 
Annie  dear  ?     How  red  your  eyes  are  1 " 

"  Well,  I  have  just  been  crying  them  out  to-d»y,  b* 
cause  you  are  going  away,  and  1  can't  see  you  for  inch 
a  long  time.  Yet  I  am  as  glad  as  I  can  be  you  are  •© 
happy,  Berrie." 

"  I  know  you  are,  dear,  and  the  time  won't  be  m 
long,  after  all.  Four  mouths  at  the  longest ;  it  will 
Boon  pass." 

"  Wi'l  you  write  to  me,  Berrie  ? " 

"  Yes,  every  week  if  I  can.  Will  that  console  you 
a  little  ? "  smiling. 

"  A  little,  yes ;  but  I  shall  miss  you  so  much !  I 
love  you,  Berrie,  better  than  I  ever  could  my  own  9>\ar 
ter." 

"  And  I  am  very  graceful  for  your  love,  little  cousin, 
and  even  Hattie  is  no  dearer  to  me  than  are  you. 
When  I  am  back,  you  shall  stay  with  me  all  you  wilL" 

"You  are  just  as  good  as  you  can  bel  I  don*t 
blame  you  for  liking  Mr.  Adair,  for  I  think  he  if 
Bplendid,  and  I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  be  so  happy ; 
but  it  breaks  my  heart  to  bid  you  good-byl"  and 
the  ready  tears  sprang  to  the  soft,  dark  eyes  of  th« 
girl. 

"  Oh,  cheer  up,  Annie  I "  said  Berrie,  gayly.    "  Don't 
think  of  that,  but  of  my  coming  home  in  the  fall. 
It  will  onl"  seem  a  little  wtiie  after  all.    How  about 
the  going  to  school.     Has  mamma  given  her   eoo 
Mmtr' 


THB  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE   WEhDiNO.        419 

"  Ob  yee !  I  am  fo  go  back  Tith  Hattie  the  next 
term." 

"  And  yon  will  have  w  many  companions  there,  yon 
won't  misfl  me  bo  mi^ch.  There's  the  bell  t  who  is  that 
1  wonder ;  hark,  Annie  1  '* 

A  ;iioment,  and  a  servant  came  in  with  a  package 
directed  to  Miss  Berrie  Burton. 

"  Another  bridal  present,  I  suppose.  I  have  a  table 
full  now.  This  is  from  Ned  Lester,  I  think,  it  looki 
like  his  writing,"  aa  «he  stood  under  the  chandelier 
examining  it. 

"  He  is  sure  to  give  you  something  nice ;  do  open  it, 
Beriiel"  said  Annie,  with  girlish  impatience. 

The  wrappings  were  undone,  and  a  handsome  silver 
tete-a-tete  set  brought  to  view.  There  was  no  card 
attached,  but  Berrie  had  recognized  the  handwriting 
of  the  direction,  and  knew  well  that  it  was  from  her 
old  friend  Ned. 

"  Isn't  it  nice  1 "  exclaimed  Annie,  admiringly. 

"  It  is  indeed,  very  1  and  when  I  am  back  you  shall 
come  and  drink  tea  with  me  from  it,  Annie  dear." 

"  That  will  be  splendid  I  Oh  dear  I  I  wish  you  were 
eoming  back  to-morrow,  instead  of  going  away." 

"  Hark  I  there's  the  bell  again.  It  is  *  hung  on  wires ' 
truly,  to-day  " 

They  listened  for  a  moment,  then  Berrie  exclaimed 
in  surprise:  "Why,  that  is  Mrs.  Merrill's  servant 
What  can  he  be  here  for,  I  wonder  ? "  and  an  unde- 
fined foreboding  of  evil  stru  ik  like  ice  on  her  loving 
heart 

She  sprang  to  the  do<Mr,  aoc  •pened  it  in  time  to  wt 


420        ^raiff  mOHT  BEFORE  THE   WEDDWa, 

the  messenger  deliver  a  note  to  her  sister,  for  whom 
he  had  inquired.  Belle  tore  open  the  note  where  she 
Bt<^tod,  and  as  she  glanced  over  the  contents,  she  ut- 
tared  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  turned  deadly 
pale. 

Berrie  sprang  forward  in  alarm,  exclaiming :  "  What 
is  it,  Belle  ?  let  me  see  I " 

But  her  sister  thrust  the  note  in  her  pocket,  and  ral' 
lying,  exclaimed  :  "  It  is  nothing,  Berrie.  Has  Annie 
gone?" 

"Something  has  happened  to  Eugene.  Give  me 
the  note,  Belle  I "  and  Berrie  with  colorless  cheeks  and 
compressed  lips  held  out  her  hand  for  the  letter, 

"  Nonsense,  Berrie  I "  and  Belle  tried  to  laugh  nat- 
urally. "  What  could  be  the  matter  with  Eugene  ? 
You  don't  suppose  I  am  going  to  let  you  see  all  my 
letters,  do  you  ? " 

"  Give  me  the  note  1 " 

Mrs.  Wright  hesitated,  but  finally  drew  the  note 
slowly  from  her  pocket,  saying :  "  You  need  not  be 
alarmed,  Berrie,  Eugene  got  hurt  a  little  going  home 
to-night,  and  his  sister  sent  to  tell  me." 

Whiter  and  whiter  grew  the  anxious  face  of  the 
gM,  but  she  merely  said  as  before,  "  Give  me  the 
note  !  "  and  as  her  sie'er  reluctantly  obeyed,  she  tore  it 
1/om  the  envelope,  and  with  straining  eyes  read  m 
follows : 

'^  No.  —  Wobck«>ti:b  Bi.    Tneadaj  Er*. 

**  Mt  Deab  Mrs.  Weight  : 

"  Eugene  was  knocked  dowr  by  a  nut 
ftw»7  horse  to-night  on  his  way  home^  imd  still  lies  ua 


THE  moirr  bbvotie  tee  weddino,      42\ 

oonBci  )U8.  Of  course  it  is  irapossil  le  to  know  the  r©» 
Bait.  Use  your  ovm  judgment  about  telling  Berne.  I 
am  almost  distracted,  and  do  not  know  what  ii  beet  I 
ihoold  be  glad  if  you  could  come  around. 

"  Yours, 

*'  Gbage  MsBBm." 

Berrie  handed  the  note  bade  to  her  sister,  and  with 
a  little  eliiver,  sank  into  a  chair  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

Belle  bent  anxiously  over  her,  saying  tenderly : 
"  Don't  worry,  Berrie,  it  will  be  all  right  in  a  little 
while  I "  But  she  only  murmured  without  uncovering 
her  face : 

"  I  might  have  known  it  1  I  was  too  happy  !  it  could 
aot  last.  He  will  die,  and  I  shall  be  more  desolate 
than  before." 

"  Oh,  hope  for  the  best,  Berrie  dear  1  It  may  not 
be  serious  after  all.  You  know  Mrs,  Merrill  is  easily 
frightened ; "  and  then  as  she  received  no  reply — "  I 
think  I  will  go  around,  shan't  I,  Berrie  ?  Mrs.  Merrill 
wished  me  to." 

"  I  shall  go  too !  Annie,  get  my  hat  1 "  and  Berrie 
uncovered  her  face  and  arose. 

Her  sister  was  on  the  point  of  remonstrating,  but 
finally  decided  it  might  be  better  than  to  leave  her  at 
home  to  imagine  the  worst,  and  sending  a  servant  for 
a  carriage,  they  were  soon  at  Mrs.  Merrill's  door. 

Mrs.  Merrill  came  to  them  at  once  in  the  parlor,  ai 
the  had  Raid,  almost  distracted.  She  tcok  Berrie  in 
her  arini,  with  tears  nmnini;  over  her  face,  tho  igh  the 


422        TOB  JflOST  BRFORE  TBS  WBDDISB. 

girl's  eje*  were  wide  and  dry  with  s  tearleM  de» 
pair. 

"  Mj  poor  child  1 "  said  the  lady,  between  her  lobiL 
"  Did  you  oome  too  ?  What  can  I  say  to  comfort  her, 
lire.  Wright?" 

"  Tell  me  how  he  is !  "  was  the  low  reply  from  th« 

g3lL 

"  He  has  not  wholly  revived  yet,  and  the  docton 
are  unable  to  say  how  seriously  he  may  be  hurt.  They 
are  afraid  of  some  internal  injury.  But  I  must  go 
back.  Come  up  into  my  sitting-room,  and  I  will  let 
you  know  as  soon  as  there  is  a  change." 

They  followed  her  upstairs,  and  Berrie  sat  down  be- 
fore tl  e  fire,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  glowing  coals, 
and  such  an  expression  of  agony  in  their  dusky  depths, 
as  was  pitiful  to  behold.  A  half  hour  of  tortured 
waiting,  in  which  Berrie  neither  moved  or  spoke,  and 
Belle  moved  restlessly  from  one  place  to  another  in  the 
small  apartment,  and  tlien  Mrs.  Merrill  came  in  with 
a  smilii  g  face,  and  going  up  to  Berrie,  she  took  her 
face  between  her  two  hands  in  a  manner  habitual  tc 
her,  and  kissing  her,  said  joyfully ;  "  Give  thanks, 
little  girl  1  He  is  better,  and  the  surgeons  think  there 
is  nothing  serious."  Then  the  tears  that  had  seemed 
congealed  around  her  bursting  heart,  flowed  forth  in 
torrents,  and  laying  her  head  on  her  friend's  shoul- 
der, she  sobbed  with  joy  and  relief. 

"  How  did  it  happen  'i  "  inquired  Belle. 

"  I  scarcely  know  myself  I "  returned  the  lady. 
"  Only  that  he  was  crossing  a  street,  and,  as  I  wrote  you, 
Wfts  knocked  down  by  a  runaway  horse.     The  docton 


TBB  AIQHT  BEFORE  THE  WEDhlNO.        42S 

«ay  Le  must  have  been  etrnck  by  the  thills  of  the  car- 
riage, directly  over  the  heart,  which  wm  the  cauM  &( 
•noh  a  prolonged  swoon." 
"  And  they  think  there  is  no  serious  injury  1 " 
"  They  think  so,  yes  I  but  it  was  a  narrow  e8cap«w 
I  should  have  died,  I  believe,  if  he  had  been  killed." 
"  Thank  God  for  His  mercy  I "  said  Belle,  reverentlj, 
"I  do,  with  my  whole  heart  I"  was  the  eame«( 

-■•ply. 

"  And  how  about  to-morrow  ? "  asked  Belle. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  tell,  I  suppose  ;  but  I  am  sure  if 
Eugene  is  able  to  move  there  wiU  be  no  postponement'* 

"  Has  he  spoken  ? "  murmured  Berrie,  whose  sobi 
had  gradually  ceased. 

"  Only  to  say  that  Berrie  was  not  to  be  told." 

"  Well,  if  he  is  better  we  may  as  well  go  home,  Ber^ 
rie,"  said  her  sister.  "  You  will  let  me  know  how  he 
is  the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"  Certainly  1  But  wait  a  moment  until  I  see  how  he 
is  DOW."  And  she  ran  out  of  the  room,  returning  in  a 
moment  to  say  that  he  had  fully  recovered  conscious- 
ness, and  the  surgeon  said  he  would  be  all  right  in  the 
morning ;  adding,  "  So  just  rest  easy  to-night,  little 
gister,  and  be  your  own  fresh,  sweet  self  to-morrow.  I 
did  not  think  it  best  to  tell  him  you  were  here,  lest  it 
should  excite  him  and  make  him  worae.*^ 

The  night  was  anything  but  a  resttul  and  easy  one  to 
the  anxious  girl.  She  obeyed  her  sister,  and  went  di- 
rectly to  bed,  but  only  to  toss  from  side  to  side  with 
wide  open  eyes,  and  thoughts  in  such  a  tmnxilt  it 
impossible  to  sleep. 


424        ^^^  KlOET  BEFORE  THE  WBDDim. 

Thanks  for  hia  narrow  escape,  fears  ^at  h5«  injnriei 
might  have  been  more  serious  than  they  dreamed,  after 
all,  tremblings  for  the  happiness  which  had  been  so 
nearly  wrecked,  anticipations  for  the  future,  waa  God 
§0  merciful  as  to  restore  her  loved  one  speedily  tc 
health,  all  surged  confusedly  through  her  mind,  nntil, 
as  the  gray  dawn  was  breaking,  she  sank  into  a  troubled 
slumber,  from  which  she  was  awakened  about  seven 
o'clock,  by  the  entrance  of  her  sister,  with  a  note  in 
her  hand,  saying :  "  Here  is  a  note  from  Eugene,  Ber- 
rie ;  the  messenger  says  he  is  better.  You  had  best 
get  up  at  once,  it  is  seven  o'clock."  And  giving  hei 
lister  the  billet  she  left  the  room. 

Berrie  tore  open  the  note  and  read : — 

"  Na  —  WoroMter  Bt,  Wednaadaj,  iL  x. 

«MtDamjno! 

^' Grace  tells  me  that  you  were  ii»> 
formed  last  night  of  my  untimely  accident,  and  know 
ing  you  must  be  exceedingly  anxious,  I  hasten  to  assure 
you  that  I  am  quite  myself  this  morning,  and  shall  be 
with  you  at  the  appointed  time.  Thank  God,  little 
girl,  that  He  still  spares  us  for  each  other,  and  believe 
me,  with  love,  "  Your  own 


With  a  heart  fmll  of  gratitude,  lo've,  and  a  happin 
more  chastened  than  if  it  had  not  been  to  nearly  spoiled, 
was  the  important  toilet  made,  and  notwithstanding  her 
uuraffident  revt  of  the  previoua  night,  excitement  lent 
an  added  lorelinew  to  the  beantifnl  fane,  to  wfaiob  the 


TSB  ariOHT  BEFORE  THE  WEDDINO.        42& 

delicate  bridal  robes  were  exqaisitely  becoming,  and 
the  looked  more  than  eTer  lovely  and  bewitching. 

Engene  came  in  dne  Beason,  walking  Bomewhat 
^wlj  and  looking  a  little  pale,  but  otherwise  hia  hand- 
acme,  prepossessing  self,  and  a  few  words  from  the  man 
of  God  made  them  one  forever,  and  sealed  their  happi 
ness  as  secure,  until  death  should  sever  the  bonds. 

Then  came  the  congratulations,  the  wedding  break- 
fast, the  drive  to  the  steamer  which  rode  the  gleaming 
waters  of  the  bay  "  like  a  thing  of  Ufe,"  the  parting 
from  dear  friends,  and  the  bridal  pair  were  fairly  en 
ronte  on  the  voyage  of  wedded  life,  treading  the  firat 
BtepB  of  the  magic  pathway  with  faith  in  each  other, 
bright  hopes  for  the  future,  and  a  mutual  love  that  liad 
endured  all  tests  which  the  circumstances  of  the  past 
bad  imposed,  and  come  out  pure,  trae«  and  triomphanti 
0  perfect  and  endorinf  affection. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

HOMB    AGAIN — "  HOPe'b    FBUITIOH.'' 

"  4  hundred  thonaand  welooraM  t    I  ooaid  weap, 
And  I  ooald  laugh  t    Fm  light  and  hesTj— Welooma  t  * 

SHAJcnraABK 

'*  And  BO  the  nuBty,  besatifol,  wondroiu  dream, 
eondenaed  itself  into  a  liTing  vommonplaoe  tealitj.** 

MmMinxMK. 

'T  was  a  bright,  glowing  morning,  early  in  Octo 
ber,  that  a  carriage  drew  up  before  one  of  the 
handsomest  residences  in  "Worceeter  Square, 
and  Mr.  Adair,  hastily  alighting,  handed  out  his  four 
months'  bride,  and  led  her  up  the  steps  of  her  own 
home.  The  heavy  rosewood  doors  were  thrown  wide 
before  he  could  ring,  and  Mrs.  Merrill,  with  a  beaming 
face,  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"  Welcome  home,  my  dear  brother  and  sister  1 "  and 
•he  took  Berrie  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  rapturously, 
greeting  her  brother  no  less  warmly  and  affectionately. 
"  This  is  the  happiest  day  of  my  life,  good  people  1  I 
always  wanted  a  sister,  and  have  now  got  one  after  my 
own  heart     I  hope  you  are  in  uh  ecstatic  a  state  as  I 


BOMS  AQAiy^'' HOPE'S  FhUll'IONr         ^ 

%m !  But  come  in,  do  t  And  Eugene,  yon  eaa  take 
Berrie  over  her  honee,  while  I  see  that  breakfast  it 
ipeedilj  on  the  table.  I  hope  yon  will  find  everything 
to  your  mind,  Berrie." 

"  I  am  sore  I  shall,  Mrs.  Merrill,  if  yon  havishad  tht 
ordering." 

"  Don't  •  Mrs.  Merrill '  me,  Berrie,"  laughed  the  ladf ; 
"  remember  I  am  your  sister  Grace  now." 

"  Whom  I  love  very  dearly,  as  you  know." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  if  you  do  1  but  this  isn't  attending 
to  breakfast ;  "  and  she  ran  away. 

Eugene  led  his  bride  through  th<?  handsome  apart- 
ments, whose  appointments  and  arrangement  were  aU 
that  the  most  fastidious  could  desire,  and  paused  at 
la»t  before  a  door  on  the  second  floor,  which  led  into 
an  extension,  saying  :  "  But  Berrie,  this  is  the  best, 
after  all  1 "  and  throwing  wide  the  door,  he  drew  het 
across  the  threshold. 

Berrie  uttered  an  exclamation  of  delight  as  she 
glanced  around  the  long  and  lofty  room. 

"  Yo\i  see  it  is  sitting-room,  library,  and  studio  com- 
bined I "  he  said.  "  While  those  two  sets  of  folding 
doors  may  divide  it  into  three.  Yonder  is  my  studio  I " 
and  he  led  her  to  the  farther  end,  where  stood  two  or 
three  carved  easels,  where  pictures  finished  and  nnfin> 
ifihed  covered  the  walls,  and  windows  were  arranged 
most  advantageously  for  the  artistic  use  to  which  that 
portion  of  the  room  was  devoted. 

"  This  is  our  library  I "  as  he  closed  the  first  set  of 
folding  doors  behind  him,  and  led  her  into  the  middle 
•f  the  triple  apartment,  where  in  the  recess  of  the 


488         SOME  AGAIN— ''  BOPB'B  fBUlTlONr 

deeply  embayed  window,  etood  a  writiiag  desk  im 
each,  while  booke  lined  the  walls,  statues  gleams 
purely  white  from  nicheB,  and  a  large  table  stood  'n 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  covered  with  ptpora,  magacLneB, 
and  a  few  of  the  latest  books  of  the  di»y. 

"  And  this  is  your  sitting-room  ;  exclosivAly  yooTB, 
as  the  studio  is  mine,  although  the  latte?  ia  sivfaya  f^ee 
to  you,  as  the  fonuer  will  be  to  me^  will  it  iiot,  lov«  I 
Sit  down  in  your  own  little  eewing-cbair,  end  tell  mo 
how  you  like  it." 

"  Like  it  ?  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much,  Eugene ! 
My  cup  of  joy  is  full  to  the  brim,  and  my  home,  lik« 
my  husband,  is  all  I  can  ask." 

"  Flatterer  1 "  he  exclaimed  smilingly,  although  heir 
praise  was  far  from  disagreeable  to  him. 

The  deep,  arching  window  of  this  portion  of  the 
room,  birds  and  flowers  rendered  beautiful ;  a  work- 
table  and  sewing-chair  provided  for  industrious  mo- 
ments ;  a  small  but  finely-toned  piano  was  ready  to 
minister  to  her  musical  tastes,  above  which  hung  her 
artist-husband's  first  exhibited  painting,  "Holly-ber- 
ries," which  had  done  so  much,  not  only  to  secure  the 
fame  which  he  now  enjoyed,  but  to  keep  true  and 
bright  her  love  for  and  confidence  in  him  through  the 
last  months  of  his  seeming  indifference  and  desertion. 

"It  is  perfect,  Eugene,"  she  said  at  last,  as  hef 
woman's  eye  took  in  aJl  the  pleasant  little  details  ot 
the  cosy  room.     '"  I  am  the  happiest  girl  in  Boston.'* 

"  Ab  jou  ought  to  be,  I  am  sure ;  though  I  am  riol 
certain  that  you  are  any  happier  than  I  am,"  said  Mn, 
lierriU  gayly,  as  nhe  entered  the  room  at  this  moment 


HOME  AGAIN—''  HOPE  8  FRUmONJ*         4^9 

*  But  leKve  rhapsodizing  for  the  present,  and  come  to 
oreakfaet     I  am  sure  you  must  be  starved." 

"  I  haven't  a  particle  of  appetite,"  laughed  Berrie ; 

•  ooming  home  has  banished  every  bit  of  it" 

There  was  a  constant  stream  of  callers  through  th« 
day — Belle,  Maud,  Helen,  and  Annie  in  the  morning: 
lir.  Wright,  Charlie,  Ned,  Mrs.  Mitchell,  and  othei 
friends,  whose  names  have  not  appeared  in  this  quiet 
little  story,  in  the  afternoon. 

The  days,  and  weeks,  and  months  that  followed, 
though  quiet  in  the  extreme,  were  very  happy  ones. 
Days  when  Berrie  read  to  her  husband  while  he 
painted,  trifled  over  some  pretty  needle-work  in  the 
cheery  south  window  of  her  portion  of  the  room,  or 
brought  from  the  ivory  keys  of  her  piano  sounds  so 
•weet  and  ravishing,  that  her  artist-listener  often 
dropped  his  brush  and  stood  spell-bound  with  wonder 
and  delight.  Evenings  when  she  entertained  her 
friends  in  her  sumptuous  parlors,  and  twilights  when 
aho  watched  through  the  deepening  shadows  for  the 
form  of  one  who  made  her  days  all  sunshine ;  marvel- 
ling, as  she  watched,  over  the  perfect  happiness,  serene 
and  deep,  which  had  come  into  her  life,  thanking  the 
Auth  jr  of  all  good  for  leaamg  her  feet  into  such  plesis- 
ant  paths,  and  beside  the  still  waters  of  an  abiding  and 
reciprocated  affection. 

"Girls,  do  you  remember  that  day  in  Bristol,  when 
for  want  of  something  better  to  do,  we  all  tried  to  tell 
what  we  anticipated  in  the  coming  years f "  inqiired 
Helen  Carlisle  one  afternoon,  about  a  month  subflo- 
quent  to  Berne's  coming  home,  as  with  Belle,  Mand 


A80         BOMB  AOAHr—^'BCPS'S  fRUlTIOM.' 

tnd  her  fair  hostess,  she  sat  In  the  latter's  little  ciMsn- 
room,  whose  glasp  doors  were  partially  cloeed,  shnttiof 
out  the  artist,  who  was  painting  busily  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  triple  apartment. 

"  /  do ! "  returned  Belle.  "  Our  plans  have  been 
well  fulfilled.  I  have  my  happy  home  and  plenty  of 
work  for  those  I  love — witness  the  table  at  home,  piled 
up  with  little  garments  for  my  two  restless  cherububs," 
laughing.  "  Maud  is  as  '  happy,  useful,  and  beloved ' 
as  she  could  desire  ;  Helen  long  ago  gave  up  *  wasting 
ber  sweetness '  on  tow-headed  urchins,  an:^  has  wc«j  ill 
the  fame  she  can  desire ;  while  Berrie — " 

'  While  Berrie," — and  the  dark  eyes  rested  (  a  die 
aandsome  Saxon  face  that  looked  down  at  her  fnn 
above  the  open  piano, — "  Berrie  has  had  ner  yearg  ol 
weary  waiting,  and  is  now  tasting  all  ibe  tvneti  •# 
Sonr's  Fbuttuui." 


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